


Zwrotnica

by BarthVader, MrDusk, wr3h



Series: Inny Tor [2]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: "Redemption" is a big word y'know, 'Interrogation Room' is a perfectly valid content warning, Akechi Goro Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark Comedy, Dramedy, Forgiveness, Gen, Post-November 20 Interrogation (Persona 5), Ryuji Says Fuck, Similarities and differences, Tags May Change, Tags WILL Change On A Whim, They're all trying, What-If, does this count as roleswap if Joker's now the deuteragonist?, enemies to frenemies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 69,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24458095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarthVader/pseuds/BarthVader, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrDusk/pseuds/MrDusk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wr3h/pseuds/wr3h
Summary: For all the experience he had in faking affability, he had no idea on how to react to a genuine act of forgiveness - it was literally beyond his comprehension. Getting shot in the face was pleasantly straightforward in comparison, and the main downside of it stopped being scary a long time ago.After losing to the Phantom Thieves in the seventh Palace, Black Mask ends up on murder-suicide watch with a very heavy conscience and people holding not-unjustified grudges. It also turned out a change of heart wasn't enough to stop the bad guys this time, but BM's more than willing to help the Thieves tip the scales, even (especially?) if it kills him.Haru's handling it relatively well, Futaba's more social than expected, Joker has too many friends, and none of those three should be allowed within 20 meters of an actual handgun.(writing done by BV alone, with Mr Dusk and wr3h as absurdly helpful betareaders)cover art by wr3h
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Phantom Thieves of Hearts
Series: Inny Tor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095587
Comments: 56
Kudos: 185





	1. For Want Of A Nail

**Author's Note:**

> Blanket content warning: suicidal ideation, self-loathing, and a little bit of murder, all played for comedy and/or drama depending on the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2020-11-24 edit: assorted touch-ups

Technically, our story begins in April of an unspecified year. But you already know how it goes for the most part, so let’s skip a few months ahead, to where it deviates from what you’ve heard.

An angry manchild, kneeling defeated in front of a group of vigilantes he betrayed half a month earlier.

A copy of him, as perceived by the villain of this story, stepping in and loudly proclaiming the original would’ve been disposed of anyway, so it might've just skipped to that part.

And a certain rash blonde, who, with a battle cry of “Fuck that!”, pulled out a shotgun and emptied it in the copy.

Now, obviously, that wasn’t enough to take him down. But when all the other Phantom Thieves followed suit, the cognitive Goro Akechi didn’t even get to think about a counterattack. Haru Okumura then proceeded to deal the killing blow with her axe.

Huh, the real Akechi thought before passing out.

* * *

Things were hurting.

Which meant he was somehow still alive. 

He slowly opened his eyes and allowed his vision to refocus. He was lying on a couch, in his usual beige suit, and managed to identify the spots of colours surrounding him as _his_ attic. Of course, where else would they take him? He turned his head and noticed someone sitting on a chair opposite him. He squinted and recognized the other person as the Okumura kid. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” Haru said, disinterested. “I do not know where he gets that medicine, but it works wonders.”

“Is this purgatory?” the detective slowly sat up, unbothered by his wrists tied in front of him. “I do not expect heaven, and there’s not enough fire and brimstone for it to be the other place.”

“No, you are alive and well,” the princess explained. “After you lost consciousness, the rear guard carried you around until we localized the Treasure, and then we got you out and back to Leblanc. You’ve been unconscious since then.”

“And ‘then’ was…?”

“Yesterday.”

Akechi clumsily attempted to pull out a cellphone from his pocket, and the rich kid quickly swiped it out of his hands.

“Don’t panic, I just wanted to check the time and notifications.” 

“8:12 PM, six messages from Shido.” Haru tapped the screen. “Asking you where you are and threatening to, quote, ‘deal with a loose end’ if you do not murder someone he mentioned earlier.” A faint smirk appeared on her face. “The last one's a barely coherent rant.”

“We have already established he would've gotten rid of me anyway, so he can bite my shiny metal suitcase. Can I walk around a bit and stretch?”

“Yes, but do not try anything funny, or else.”

He got up and started marching around the attic. After a moment of awkward pause, he finally asked. “So, when are you going to steal Shido’s heart?”

“The others are doing it right now.” 

He froze mid-step and turned to her. “…wait, what?”

Haru giggled ominously in response. “It’s all over the news, you can go downstairs and see.”

Akechi ran down, tripped on the last step, and, unable to cushion the landing with his hands, landed flat on his face. “Oh, you’re awake.” Sojiro growled. He stepped from behind the counter and lifted him back to a standing position by his collar.

“-lieved to have committed suicide in police custody, has been allegedly present during the statement made by the group,” the newscaster read out. “The police spokesperson has claimed that their computer security specialists are trying to find the source of the broadcast emitted by the hijackers, and refused to answer further questions…”

“Huh, they went all-out with this one…” the detective mumbled.

“You can speak up, I’m up to date on the events,” the barista said. “And frankly, I do not understand why they bothered to save you.”

“That makes two of us.” He sat by the counter, and Haru sat in a booth behind him, watching him intently. “Are you still serving curry, sir?”

Sojiro gave him a disapproving stare, but decided that he wasn’t going to deny food to someone who hadn’t eaten in a day, murderous bastard or not. He turned towards the stovetop to heat the meal up.

“There is no need to be distrustful,” Akechi said. 

“ _Au contraire,_ ” Haru replied. “You have demonstrated both irrational hatred towards the group and willingness to fight even when outnumbered and outmatched.”

After trying to come up with a good retort to that and failing, the detective just muttered “Fair.” Beat. “Could I be untied? It’s hard to eat with restrained wrists.”

Haru ostentatiously grabbed a sharp knife from the drying rack, to Akechi’s utter indifference. She freed him with a careless cut and he rubbed his wrists before reaching for his wallet. “How much for that?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I feel like I should pa-”

The entrance to the cafe was slammed open. The trio turned towards the sound and noticed three serious-looking men in black suits. “Search the place,” the leader commanded.

The detective got off his chair, blocking the way. “What’s the matter?” he asked, innocently.

The leader recognized him. “Akechi?”

“Ooh, fans of mine,” he put on a genuine-looking smile. “Could we talk outside for a moment?”

The detective and the goons walked out of Leblanc. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Shido sent me ahead to watch this place after I had offed the Phantom Thieves' leader, just in case,” the detective said in a conspiratorial tone. “He’s not stupid, he didn’t come back here. You could go ahead and search the place, and then you can go and tell the boss you’ve wasted an entire evening.”

“What about the owner?” the leader glanced at the barista through the glass door. “We could try and interrogate him.”

“Or detain him ‘provisionally’, to get the Thieves to turn themselves in,” his lackey added.

“It won’t work,” Akechi shot him down. “The guy knows nothing, and the Thieves will just dismiss him as collateral. I’ve infiltrated them before, they’re sociopaths. They can barely stand each other-”

"Alright then, ace detective," one of the agents in the back growled, "if you 'infiltrated' them, tell us something _useful_. Like the address of their current hideout."

"Since you asked so nicely…" He pulled out a note block and wrote something on the top page. "They have rented something out under a fake name a few months back. The leader has a few go-to pseudonyms, and he changes them a lot." He ripped the page out and handed it to the head goon. "I assume that's where their base of operation is now."

He stared at the address for a moment, before glancing back at the detective. “Alright. And what are _you_ gonna do?”

“Go back there and get the meal I paid for, I’m starving. Call me if something pops up.”

“Okay, we’ll stay in touch.” 

The group marched away. Akechi turned on his heel and returned to the cafe.

“And?” Sojiro looked at him expectantly.

“They just wanted an autograph.”

“Hilarious,” Haru growled. “What did you tell them?”

The smile on Akechi’s face turned a bit more genuine. “The address of the Phantom Thieves’ secret hideout.”

“And where that ‘hideout’ is?”

He reached for his phone. “Wakō, near the Fukutoshin terminus. It’s far away, but not too far for them to doubt my story. I should have an hour or so before they’ll try to get in touch with me.” He removed the battery cover and pulled out his SIM card. “Where’s the trash can?”

Sojiro pointed it out, and Akechi almost nailed the throw. “If you pulled rank like that, couldn’t you just tell them to stand down?” Haru piped up. 

“I didn’t pull rank, I just lied and hoped Shido hadn’t burned me already. It’s the best I could do. How about that curry, sir?”

“Dammit!” Sojiro turned back to the stovetop and tried to scrape the burnt bits from the bottom of the pan. 

Akechi turned to Haru. “You need to get in touch with the Phantom Thieves and warn them about this. Joker should sleep elsewhere tonight.”

“Same goes for Futaba,” Sojiro added. “I’ll stay behind. If I disappear too, they’ll find it suspicious.”

“That’s risky, Boss.”

He sighed. “Stealing the heart of Japan’s top politician is risky. Wasting some corrupt stooges’ time is just the least I can do.” He glanced at Akechi. “And what will _you_ do?”

“Take the food to go, if possible.”

“Stop with the smartassery, kid,” Sojiro growled, reaching for the plastic container. “You have no protection, you’ve outlived your usefulness to the conspiracy, and you’ll soon be as much of a wanted man as the Thieves. What's your plan for the future?”

“I…” Akechi found himself at a loss of words, for the first time that night, “…I’ll figure it out as I go. Get out of your hair, get a hotel room, stay inside for a week or so, and see what happens next.”

Haru got up. “I’m going with you.” 

“You want to shoot me in a dark alleyway or something?” the detective also stood up, and grabbed a takeaway bag. “Or is that a pity thing? Because you can stick it up yo-”

“You’re a dangerous criminal that cannot be left unsupervised,” she interrupted him, bitter. “I want to keep my eye on you.”

“I also have no reason to commit more crimes or even oppose the Phantom Thieves in any way, but whatever lets you sleep at night.” He marched to the exit. “I’ll get you a room next to mine.”

“I’ll call Futaba if something happens.” Sojiro pointed at Haru, “You, good luck,” and at Akechi, “And you…” He paused, trying to come up with something polite to say. “And you, don’t get the others in _even more_ trouble.”


	2. Friendly Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2020-10-01 edit: Changed the chapter's ending to pace the deescalation a bit better.

Haru and Akechi were sitting on a bench at the Yongen-Jaya station, waiting for a train to Shibuya. The station was relatively empty, with only a few people standing around, mercifully not noticing nor caring about a celebrity amongst them. The girl finished typing a long message for the remaining Phantom Thieves and put her phone away.

“So, you need a place to stay, and so do Joker and Oracle. And Mona too, come to think of it.”

“Uh huh,” Akechi muttered, staring at the wall on the other side of the tracks.

“There’s a hotel near the airport line, in Ōta. Some Okumura Foods workers stayed there on business trips, and it was good value for money. We could put you all there for a few days, and Joker could keep an eye on you.” 

“Uh huh.”

“I have some pocket change and he has some leftovers from pawning Mementos loot. I guess you have some rainy day funds as well.”

“Uh huh.”

“So we have a plan.” She glanced at him, annoyed. “Go to Ōta, get a room, stab you in the face.”

Akechi returned the glance. “Believe it or not, I _was_ listening the whole time. I just have no meaningful feedback. Are the other two fine with that plan?”

“I don’t know yet, I’ve recapped what happened to them in a text message. They should call aft-” With convenient timing, Haru’s phone rang, and she picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Are you okay?!” Ryuji screamed on the other side. “Did Shido’s goons hurt you? Did they hurt Akechi?! Please say they punched him or somethi-!”

Some scuffle could be heard, and after a moment Makoto’s voice was heard on the other side. “We got your message. At least, I assume it was yours.”

“Yes, it was. You’re out of the Palace now, aren't you?”

“Just barely,” Makoto sighed. “The ship went down with the captain and we only got out because Ryuji got us a lifeboat.”

“YOU BEAT ME UP FOR THAT!”

“We were worried you _died there,_ you idiot!”

“STOP SCREAMING!”

“I am so glad to hear you pulled it off,” Haru interjected. “Can someone pass the phone to Joker?”

After a moment, she heard a familiar voice on the phone. “Hm?”

“Hey. You’re able to reach the Otorii station with Oracle and Mona, yes?”

“Uh huh.”

“ _Full sentence,_ ” she snapped.

“Yes, I am able to. I will look up the itinerary.”

“Lovely. Now, there’s also a matter of what to do with Akechi, and, well, if you want to play warden for him.”

“Get him on the phone.”

Haru passed the device to her side. “Good evening, Joker.” the detective said. “For the record, my suggestion is to throw me under a subway train.”

The guy on the other side politely ignored that remark. “Heard you helped Sojiro out when Shido’s stooges came a-knocking.”

“It’s nothing, really. He wants me dead, and you…” he glanced at Haru, “…well, you also want me dead, but for a much better reason.”

Sigh on the other side. “Yes, we dragged your unconscious body around and nursed you to health just to murder you in the real world,” he said, bitter, before returning to the default friendly tone. “Do you want to talk about it? We could hang out for a few days, walk through your issues over coffee and curry.”

“I do not need your pity,” Akechi growled.

“Then I’ll just cook you coffee and curry, no strings attached.”

He didn’t _need_ them. He had enough cash lying around for a rainy day and could’ve hidden by himself. Shibuya was crowded enough for him to lose Okumura in the crowd after a running start out of a train. Or was it? One of his many, _many_ mistakes was underestimating the Thieves as a group, and someone who can swing a polearm as hard as she did probably could keep up with him when push comes to shove.

Laying low for now seemed like the most reasonable idea.

“Fine. I’ll stick around you all so you can keep watch on me.”

“Awesome!” Akechi could almost see the smile through the phone line. “See you in Ōta then!” He disconnected.

The detective handed the phone back to its owner. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Uh h- I mean, yeah, sure.”

“Am I annoying you with the suicidal ideation?” he asked.

“Somewhat.”

* * *

The doorknob had a sensor on it above the expected keyhole. Haru put one of the four blank plastic cards next to it, and it beeped and unlocked the door. “Come in.”

She opened the door, allowing Joker (with Morgana in the bag), Akechi and Futaba to enter.

“Um, you said we’re renting a room,” the cat peeked out. “Not a whole apartment.”

“That was the plan, but then it turned out Joker has ten million yen in his wallet.”

“Shadows drop lots of cash,” the brunette shrugged. 

The corridor was humble - a coat rack, a full length mirror, and five doors. The leftmost three were leading to separate bedrooms, each with a twin bed, a desk with a chair, and a window pointed towards the street. The fourth door was leading to a bathroom with a shower booth and a sink. The fifth was the toilet, you know how those work. To the right of of the doors, a passage was leading to a spacious living room with a kitchenette, a dining table, a couch and a TV hanging on the wall.

“Whoa.” Futaba’s jaw was on the floor.

Haru put the entry cards on the table. “I think you can take it from here. I’m going to head home now.”

“See ya!” Joker waved. “And thanks for the recommendation!”

The girl left the flat. Akechi felt that was the right moment to eat the takeaway he had gotten earlier. He sat by the table and opened the container. 

“Is that Sojiro’s curry?” Futaba popped behind his back with a scowl on her face.

“Uh huh.” He took an attached plastic fork and mixed the sauce and the rice together.

“Tastes good, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

Futaba frowned. “Do you know whose recipe it is?”

“…your dad’s?”

“No. My mom’s. Wakaba Isshiki.”

The fork froze in the air, between the container and his mouth. The name did not ring a bell, but the tone was a massive clue. What was he supposed to say to someone whose mother he had murdered and didn’t even remember because it wasn’t out of the ordinary at the time? ‘I’m sorry’ was out of the question, it was way too late for apologies. A joke about his own hollowness _could’ve_ broken the tension, but could’ve also make her angry about trying to counter her suffering with his, and people were getting fed up with that schtick already. And it’s not like _he_ didn’t deserve hi- 

“Is he frozen?” Futaba asked Joker. “Does he need a three-finger salute?”

“Do you, erm… want to finish this?” Akechi blurted out.

The geek yanked the fork and the container away from him, all while giving him a death glare. Maintaining it, she started nibbling on the cold curry.

“One portion of curry isn’t much for dinner.” Joker piped up, looking into the kitchenette cupboards. “I could whip up more, but we’d need to go downstairs to the store.”

“We?”

“You and me, Akechi.” He shook the sports bag on his back. “Morgana, stay with Futaba for a moment.” 

The two walked out of the room, then went downstairs - 78 steps, Akechi counted - and out of the hotel building, in total silence. They marched down the street towards one of the supermarkets, and then Akechi finally growled “What do you expect? A tearful speech about how I regret my life up to this moment and will totally be besties with you forever and ever once we get past all the mom-and-pop-killing?”

Joker shook his head and reached into his pocket. Akechi expected a weapon of some sort, probably a swift and quiet one, but what came out was much smaller, tiny enough to fit in his palm. The brunette opened it, revealing…

“Shido’s Treasure,” Joker said. “I think you should have it.”

The detective picked it up and inspected it, trying to find anything anomalous about it. “That’s it? A legislator’s pin?”

“Better than its original form,” the brunette shrugged. “I can’t imagine lugging around a large ship wheel.”

“Speaking of,” Akechi put it away. “I keep wondering why did you drag me out of Shido’s Palace?”

“Why would we _not_ do that?”

“I don’t know,” he scanned the surroundings, and noticing nobody within earshot, he went on, quietly, “because I’m an assassin with blood of your team’s parents on my hands? And yours, while we’re at it.”

Joker did the same thing before continuing, “Eh, if I held a grudge at everyone that shot me in the face…”

“How many people did that?”

“Well, just you.”

Akechi rolled his eyes. “Stop joking around. I bring absolutely _nothing_ to your stupid quest for ‘justice’. I am an active hindrance. I could backstab you again at any second.”

“But will you?”

“I could.”

Joker stopped and leaned against the wall. “But _will you_? What would you gain from that?”

Akechi turned to him. “More fame, for instance. Recapturing the Phantom Thieves’ leader after the police botched the job by letting them escape is no small potatoes.”

“Yeah, because celebrity life obviously made you happy. That’s why the first thing you said to me after waking up was ‘please kill me’.”

“You are _awfully talkative_ today,” Akechi scowled.

"It's because the medium changed," Joker shrugged. "I'm no longer an extension of a video game player, which allows me to have a more defined personality and more dialogue - and an occasional fourth wall break as a nod to my role in the source material."

“…what are you on about?”

“Nothing,” he waved him off. “You want an answer to why we pulled you out?” He adjusted his glasses. “When Kunikazu died…”

“When I killed him.”

“We didn’t know that at the time.” Joker’s expression changed subtly. “We were celebrating the succesful heist… and watched his press conference live…" A sigh. "I still remember everyone’s faces. The anger. The disbelief. Wondering what went wrong in the Palace, what we overlooked. Watching Futaba lock up ‘cause her mother died the exact same way…”

“To be fair though,” Akechi opened his mouth, “Okumura had that coming. You’ve heard how he trea-”

“ _He did NOT deserve to die!_ ” the brunette raised his voice, and the detective recoiled, startled. “And neither do you, you…!” He restrained himself and went back to the hushed tone. “It isn’t about _removing_ the bad guys and calling it a day. If it was about that, I would’ve ganged up on Kamoshida with Ryuji and bashed his head with a hammer or something. It’s about making a _change_ for the better.” Joker took a deep breath. “I will not leave you for dead, I'll leave you in a better state, even if that means more chances for bullets to the face. End of conversation. Let’s go to that goddamn store now.”

He marched away. After a moment, Akechi followed. No more words were exchanged before the two returned to the hotel.

* * *

Akechi was lying on his bed and playing with his phone when someone knocked on his room’s door. “Come in?”

Joker walked in, carrying a bowl. “Hey, I brought you curry. Could you please eat in here? I don’t want to upset Futaba any more today.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He took the bowl from the brunette and started eating. Even without his stomach’s continuous demands for anything edible, it was warm and tasty and  _ yummy,  _ and he found himself rapidly shoveling it in his mouth with a provided spoon.

“Are you enjoying it?”

He swallowed. “Slightly.”

The brunette sighed. “Sorry for snapping at you earlier today. It was a long and tiring day.”

“Eh,” he waved him off. 

“Please don’t  _ eh  _ me. We’ll probably end up stuck here for at least a few days, the least I can do is be civil, and ask for the same.”

The spoon scraped the bottom of the now empty bowl. “Continue supplying me with this good stuff and I might as well behave.”

“Fuck it, I’ll take it for now,” he said, taking the dirty vessel from him and turning to leave the room. “Night, Akechi.”

He loudly closed the door behind himself. The detective lied back down and returned to playing with his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I wasn't trying to name chapters after TvTropes trope names, the chapter would be titled "Uh huh."


	3. Forced Meme

Sojiro was opening the cafe for the day, when he felt something scratching his pant leg. 

“Morgana?” he glanced down.

“Mrow!”

“You… do realize I can’t understand you, right? If you’re Morgana, meow three times.”

“Meow, meow, meeee-ow.”

Relieved, Sojiro opened the door and let the cat in. He jumped on one of the booth tables, and the barista sat by it.

“Are they safe?”

Morgana nodded, then poked Sojiro’s chest with his paw.

“Me? Well, the goons came back, but only asked about that detective guy. I truthfully told them he got his curry to go and left, probably to the subway station. Then they just left. I thought about messaging Futaba, but I’m scared the police might intercept the message.”

Morgana’s subsequent purr almost sounded like “hmmmm”. Sojiro pulled his phone out and opened the notepad app. “Can you type?” he put it on the table.

The cat swiped his paw on the screen a few times. _when did they come back_

“Around 9:30, I think. An hour and a half or so after Haru left with that other guy.”

_so after shidos heart was stolen. they prolly had nothing to gain by harming you_

“I guess so.” Sojiro stood up. “Thanks for keeping me posted. Tell the kids they should stay in hiding for a few more days, just in case.” He patted him on the head. “And tell them to get you some nice fatty tuna for everything you do for them.”

* * *

“And he really told you to get you some tuna?” Joker muttered, still half-asleep.

“I might have paraphrased a bit.”

“Eh, you deserve something nice for getting to Yongen and back here to get him up to speed.” he yawned, then turned away from him. “But… now… more sleep…”

His phone bleeped. He glanced at the screen and noticed an IM notification. It was a message from Futaba.

_He’s awake! And doing something!_

_Who?_

_Askechi! He’s doing something in the living room, and I do not trust him one bit._

“As-kechi?” Morgana muttered. “Oh, like ‘Akechi’ and ‘sketchy’! I get it!”

“Or she pressed two buttons at once.” Joker rubbed his eyes and got up from the bed. “Still, why the hell is he up so early…” He put a pocket knife in his PJs’ back pocket, just in case, and got out of his bedroom, followed by the cat. 

The TV set was on, and news channel could be heard playing alongside some quiet clutter. Joker took a few quiet steps. “Akechi? You there?”

Suddenly, a loud hiss. Morgana recoiled and hid behind Joker. Akechi peeked from the room. “Yeah?” He appeared to have ditched the suit jacket in favour of an undershirt. 

The brunette recognized the sound. “You’re frying something there, aren’t you?”

“Yup. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’ll just make breakfast for everyone.”

“Awesome!”

Akechi rolled his eyes. “Cut the forced pleasantries.”

“No, no, it really is awesome. I can’t cook anything other than rice and curry, you'll bring some variety to the table.” Joker walked into the room. “Whatcha got there, ace detective?”

“A stack of pancakes,” he pointed at a plate on the counter. “Put whatever you want on them.” He took a bite out of an already rolled one, lying on a separate plate. “Ahm puhrshul to,” he swallowed, “I’m partial to strawberry jam myself.”

“I’m gonna prepare some for Futaba. She’ll probably eat in her room,” Joker said, getting leftover curry sauce from the fridge.

“Is it because of me?” Akechi said, jiggling the frying pan to loosen up the pancake-in-the-making on it. “I can go back to my bedroom.”

“No… well, not all of it.” He put the sauce in the microwave and pressed the “+30s” button. “She’s just not good with people.” 

“Because I killed her mom.”

“To be fair, it’s mostly because Shido faked a suicide note blaming Futaba for that and had a bunch of goons tell her it’s all her fault.”

“Which wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t killed her.”

“Morgana, please.”

Akechi sighed. “Gentlemen, dancing around the issue will not do anyone any favors. I’ll bring her her portions and try to… talk to her. Or something along those lines.” The microwave beeped. “What timing.” He pulled out the sauce, poured it on the topmost pancake, and rolled it up. “Joker, please finish off the remaining batter. Morgana, could you offer me your assistance?”

The cat lifted his head. “What ‘assistance’ do you expect?”

“Scream at me if I cross a line.”

“I can do that.”

Akechi took a plated pancake, grabbed some cutlery from the drier, and marched to the bedroom door.

“Futaba?” he asked, knocking gently. “I brought you breakfast.”

“With my approval!” Joker added from the kitchen. 

After a pause, the door was unlocked from the other side, and Futaba opened it. “If he approves, come in.”

The room was dark, with no lights on and blinds pulled all the way down. The only thing illuminating it was the screen of the geek’s laptop. Futaba watched, with a scowl on her face, as Akechi placed the plate on her desk, next to it, and next to that - a sharp knife. “Here, you can stab me if you want.”

“Akechi!” Morgana screamed.

Futaba looked at him quizzically. “Why should I do that?”

“Well, vengeance. For your mother. Wakaba Isshiki, correct?”

The girl picked up the knife and inspected it. It was five inches long, in a relatively good shape, well-sharpened. “This is a joke, isn’t it?”

“Why would it be?”

“Because wounding a person, no matter what they did to me or my friends, will _cause me even more trauma_ , you rootkit!” She slammed the knife down, startling the cat.

“I am not talking about _wounding_ me.”

“Again, line crossed.” Morgana said, aware neither party is listening to him at that point.

The girl needed a moment to process the sentence. “So… wait, you mean…”

“Killing me. Yes.”

The cat gave up. Futaba looked at the detective, confused - it was either a prolonged joke on his part, or apparently underneath the charming celebrity facade he was _somehow_ the less socially developed one. “Can we… talk for a bit?”

The geek sat down on the chair and gestured at her bed for Akechi to do the same. Morgana placed himself on the bed as well.

“Okay, me being a not-killer aside, do you know how much blood would you leave if I stabbed you here?” she pointed out. “It’s impractical.”

“We can get something arrang- _ow!_ ” He gave the cat an angry glare. “What was _that_ for?”

Morgana let go of his hand. “For not listening when I scream at you.” He hissed.

“I’m gonna ask a big question:” the geek piped up, “do you really… jeez, this sounds weird said out loud… do you really _want to_ die? I mean, even if this isjust a bit, it’s concerning, but do you really want to call _shutdown -h now_?” 

“Yes.”

“Elaborate.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What is there to elaborate on? I’m a murderer, there is no point to my existence, I feel guilty… I think, and I thought giving you a stab at revenge was a good way to go.” Futaba gave him a side-eye. “I swear, that pun was unintentional.”

“You _think_ you feel guilty?” the cat asked.

Akechi paused and averted the two’s gazes. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s my shriveled conscience acting up when confronted with banal reminders of my victims - like, say, the curry or your PTSD - or maybe I’m just mad at myself for following that stupid impractical plan to take Shido down for as long as I did, considering you’ve done that with less effort and less dead people.”

“Yeah, you don’t think things through,” Futaba said, glancing at the knife on her desk. “I was in a similar spot, you know. Guilt-wise.”

“Because of me.”

“Let’s not think about that for now,” she said, her tone turning, for lack of a better description, clinically cold. “As I said, I know that feeling. Garbage and guilt piling up and the voices in your head screaming at you…”

“I- I’m not _that_ off the deep end,” Akechi said. True, there was something in his head telling him _it is all your fault_ on loop, but it was less of a voice and more of a nagging thought that wouldn’t go away. “L-look, if it’s difficult for you-”

“Let. Me. Finish.” She took a breath to calm herself down. “I still didn’t reach the important part.”

A pause followed, as Akechi considered himself unworthy to ask the obvious question. “Which is?” Morgana finally spoke up.

“I stuck around, if barely,” she said. “I got help from the Phantom Thieves, who dealt with my distorted desire to die. Joker later helped me with some lingering problems that remained. And I helped _them_ in turn with my,” she adjusted her glasses with a cocky smirk, “slightly-above-average computer skills.”

“Quick question,” Akechi turned to Morgana, “you can’t just… do the Metaverse magic to me like you did to her, can you?”

“Nope, sorry,” Morgana remarked. “Persona users don’t have Palaces or Shadows. Futaba developed a Persona after we infiltrated hers.”

“Of course, it can’t be too easy,” he mumbled.

“Anyway, that’s my TL;DR: stick around.” she said. “Maybe things will get better, maybe after ruining almost everything you might give the world something unique, something _yours_ specifically. Or maybe you won’t, ‘cause you’re a rootkit,” she shrugged. “But you need to be there to see it. And personally, you doing something _right_ for once will make me more satisfied than you bleeding on my bed sheets.” She glanced at the plate. “Now, what health item did you bring me here?”

“A pancake with leftover curry sauce.” She chuckled for some reason at the word ‘pancake’. “I couldn’t sleep, so I made breakfast for everyone.”

“That’s why you were messing around in the kitchen, huh? You scared me, y’know.”

“A-a-apologies.” 

“Thanks for the food though, I appreciate it.” She grabbed a fork and used it to cut off a bite-sized chunk, and the flustered Akechi considered that his exit cue. He politely bowed and backed towards the door. He grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and waited a second to allow the eavesdropping Joker to move out of the way.

“This was a private conversation,” he scowled.

“I know, but I’m concerned for both of you,” the brunette replied. “By the way, Futaba: if Sojiro saw you there, he would’ve shed a single proud tear!” he said to the girl in the room. 

“And then lie about that afterwards,” the girl added, between bites.

“If I can be honest,” the detective said, “I'm surprised nobody suggested I should turn myself in yet.”

“So that you can get drugged and tortured by some goons beyond accountability?” Joker scowled. “To quote my dear friend Ryuji Sakamoto: ‘Fuck that’.”

“Sorry for that, by the way.”

“Hey, I got out alive, so-”

He was interrupted by a barely audible knock on the door. Everyone tensed up, not expecting a guest for obvious reasons. Joker quietly walked to the front door and glanced through the peephole. Then, he pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. A muffled ringtone could be heard from the other side, and the visitor picked up the call.

“H-hello?”

“Haru? What are you doing here?”


	4. Why Don't You Just Shoot Him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ~~I can’t tag him, since he doesn’t have an AO3 account, but~~ Mr Dusk - the guy I mentioned at the top of the first chapter - has been an immense help as someone to proofread this stuff, run plot points past, and consult on P5 lore, and as such I believe he deserves a co-credit for the story. 
> 
> That’s all, on to the show.
> 
> 2020-07-19 edit: I forgot that Mementos targets drop unique loot on defeat; I went back and added some bits about that

“I… got in a fight.” Haru said. Only then Joker registered that she covered a black left eye with her hair.

“Ho boy.” He opened the door and put away the phone. “Come in, come in, sit down. We have pancakes, you can grab one.”

She entered the flat and marched to the living room, followed by the two guys and a cat. “Remember my former fiance?” she asked, sitting down by the table.

“How could I forget the bastard?” the brunette replied, sitting down next to her. Morgana hissed angrily.

“He was waiting for me in front of my house. I… I barely escaped.” 

“You weren’t followed by anyone?” Akechi spoke up.

In lieu of a response, she shot him a death glare. The detective took the hint and backed away to his bedroom.

“He _did_ make a valid point,” the cat piped up.

“Yes, I know,” Haru sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m on edge right now. To answer the question, no, I don’t think I was followed.”

“Great. You should be safe for now, and you can probably pull some strings to get excused at school.” The brunette brought the pancakes from the countertop to the table, and put some toppings next to the stack. He rolled himself one, with peanut butter, and ate about half of it before deciding to not wait for the girl to speak up. “So, do you wanna go to Mementos today?”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” the girl said. “Someone will surely notice a change in his behaviour. Especially now that we gave the country definite proof we’re operating and you’re alive.”

“If you reported him to the police, they might even take it seriously,” Morgana said. “You _are_ from a rich and influential family.”

Joker swallowed a bite. “And so is he, so doing that the ‘proper’ way might not even work. I’m still in favour of the Thieves doing their magic, but I’m not going to for-”

Their phones interrupted them, and they pulled them out. A message from Makoto on the group chat. _Where is Haru?_

 _In a safe place._ Joker snapped a quick photo of her and sent it. _What’s wrong?_

_Her former fiance came to school today, being vulgar, aggressive, and looking… well, I managed to get a photo._

Makoto’s cell phone camera must’ve been really impressive, because the photo was of decent enough quality for everyone to notice his hair being clumped on the side, and some dried blood down his neck and staining his impeccable suit.

Joker glanced at Haru. “You did that to him?”

In lieu of a direct response, she typed: _I might have broken my favourite flower pot on his stupid head._

 _Nice!_ Ryuji wrote.

“Well, that means we should be also concerned with _you_ hurting _him_ ,” Joker said. “I’m sure there’s unanimous support for kicking his Shadow’s ass, but I will not call a vote if you do not agree on that.”

“If there’s no other option…” she muttered.

“Very well.” The brunette typed _Wanna drop by after school for some pancakes?_ in the group chat. It took about three seconds before everyone confirmed their attendance, and Ryuji demanded actual pancakes in a separate chat. After confirming that yes, there will be some, Joker put the phone away. “There is still one topic to discuss. Morgana, get the other two.”

“What is it?”

“I’d rather that Akechi was under supervision. For both our and his own good.”

“We could ask someone to stay here with him. They could watch TV or something.”

“We could, but I have a better idea.” The geek and the detective entered the room, and Joker turned to the latter. “We’re going to Mementos today, wanna tag along?”

“What?!” the entire team said in unison.

“You _cannot_ be serious,” Haru said. “There is absolutely no reason for him to take part in the operation.”

“He’s got a Persona and it can beat up Shadows, isn’t that good enough?”

“He killed my father!” she reacted with indignation. “He tried to kill _you!_ Why do you try giving him chances?” 

“She _does_ make a valid point,” Akechi spoke up.

“ _You_ stay out of this.” 

“I’m a risk taker, alright?” Joker shrugged. “That is only slightly more risky than getting Makoto onboard a few months back. She was working for the principal back then, he asked her to sniff us out.“

“And later he _died in mysterious circumstances._ ” If looks could kill, this story would have been about disposing the corpse of Goro Akechi. “Futaba, please back me up.”

“I’m the support party member, keep me out of the fights,” she inched towards her bedroom.

“If that is any consolation,” Akechi remarked, “I’m not suicidal enough to pull anything against the one group of people that barely tolerates my existence.”

“Oh, you’re not suicidal enough, alright.”

Joker put his hand on her shoulder. “Trust me, Haru. If you agree, I will not let things escalate between him and the rest of the group.”

After a moment of hesitation, she sighed and nodded. “Fine. Whatever it takes to get that guy out of my life.”

* * *

“Crow, could you do us a favour?” Joker said, as the group materialized near the Mementos entrance.

“What’s the problem?” Akechi asked.

“It’s about your current Persona,” he explained. “I don’t think we’re going to need Loki’s, ahem, skillset, and the looks bring back bad memories.”

“Less Loki and more low-key, is what we’re saying.” Morgana chuckled to himself, and everyone else rolled their eyes.

Inhale. “If I must.” His body stiffened, then he fell down to his knees. He let out a continuous painful groan and clutched his head, as his black-and-violet costume retracted into nothingness, revealing the white-and-gold toy soldier uniform. When he got up, his face was covered with a red mask with a pointy beak. Noticing everyone’s uneasy looks, he remarked “Excuse me for not being as clean and swift as our leader.”

“ _Our?_ ” Haru remarked.

“Well, I am under his command at the moment, and so are you.”

“Off to a great start,” Joker muttered under his breath. “Alright, forward team is me, Noir, Fox and Queen. We’re making a beeline straight to the…” he glanced at Haru, “I just realized we didn’t talk about his name.” 

“Sugimura.”

“I need a full name,” Morgana said.

“Well… nobody told me. Joys of arranged marriages.” 

“Does he even _have_ a canon full name?” Joker scratched his head. “Screw it, headcanon, first name is Hisayoshi, after his voice actor. Phantom Thieves, moving out!”

Thanks to the magic of fast-travel, the Morganacar was on the correct level in no time, slamming Shadows too low-level to be a threat to the party. Joker was behind the wheel, with Haru riding shotgun, Yusuke, Makoto and Ann in the middle row, and Akechi, Ryuji and Futaba in the back. 

“Everyone’s awfully quiet today,” Joker remarked. “Something’s bugging you all?”

“I’ve been listening to conversations on the subway,” Makoto piped up. “Shido appears to have remained popular.”

“The ‘net is also on his side, from what I’ve seen,” Futaba added.

“I’ve heard two talking heads on the news claiming the Thieves are _obviously_ paid off by foreign powers,” Akechi muttered.

“I wish,” Ryuji rolled his eyes.

The Morganacar reached a black-and-red hole leading towards a separate part of the Metaverse, and went through it. Shadow Sugimura was standing on the other side, staring in their general direction. Waiting.

“Before we get off…” Joker put his hand on Haru’s shoulder, “Noir, you’re an incredibly valuable team member. You’re surrounded by friends and allies. If things get too heavy, there are multiple people willing to listen to you and support you. You got it?”

“Yes,” she mumbled.

“Louder for the people in the back!” Ryuji screamed.

“Yes!”

“LOUDER!”

“ _Yes, I got it!_ ”

“Good,” Joker smirked. “Now, let’s go kick some Shadow ass.”

The group stepped out of the car, allowing Morgana to shift himself back to his default form. Shadow Sugimura took a step forward. “Look what the cat dragged in - a bunch of thugs above their station led by a guy that can’t even _die_ properly.”

“Bold words for someone outnumbered nine-to-one.”

He recognized the girl and smirked, managing the difficult task of looking even more punchable than usual. “Who else could’ve benefitted from Kunikazu Okumura kicking the bucket?”

“Um, lots of people,” Akechi muttered, trying to blend in with the surroundings. 

Haru gripped her axe tighter. “I had nothing to do with that!”

“Well, someone else had to do the heavy lifting, obviously.” The Shadow took another step forward. “I do not expect a fragile little flower like you to get her hands dirty.”

“I’ll show you fragile!” She charged forward, attempting to attack him with an overhead two-handed smash. Unfortunately for her, the weapon bounced off a shield that materialized at just the right moment, and the handle smacked Haru straight in the face, dealing significant damage.

“Crap, Phys repel,” Joker muttered.

“My turn,” Sugimura grinned. “Freidyne!”

“Wait, why did he call his atta-” the rich girl started, before getting nuked within an inch of her life, and falling on the ground. 

“Pathetic,” the Shadow smirked. “One more: Freidyne!”

This time, he targeted Makoto, who just shrugged it off.

“Queen, revive Noir!” the leader commanded. Makoto rummaged through the bag and pulled out a small tube of Life Ointment, then squeezed it in Haru’s general direction. She got up from the ground, fully healed.

“He called his attack because it’s convenient in a purely written medium,” Joker explained. “Fox, give our host a cold shoulder, let’s see how it goes.” 

“Bufudyne!” A crystal formation surrounded the Shadow, then shattered, dealing relatively pitiful damage. “It’s ineffective!”

“Okay, let’s try the boring option.” The leader took aim from his model gun and fired. The bullet bounced back and smacked him in the forehead. “Ow!”

“Repel this!” Haru put a hand on her domino mask. “Psycho Force!”

The Psy attack connected, and did enough damage to wipe the smile off the Shadow’s face - and put one on Haru’s.

“Hmph,” it regained composure. “This isn’t over yet, Okumura. Freidyne!”

Before the attack managed to connect, Joker pushed Haru out of the way. It hurt like hell, but the leader was still standing.

“Wha-why?”

“Y’all take hits for me all the time…” he huffed. “I really wanted to return the favour.”

“Letting others deal with the, heh, fallout of your actions?” the Shadow switched back to obnoxiousness. “Like father, like daughter.”

Haru was ready to cast Psycho Force again, out of turn, but Joker grabbed her hand. “Not yet. Queen, debuffs!”

Makoto rummaged through the item bag and found a spray can with ‘Ultimate Disinfectant’ written on it. She sprayed it in the Shadow’s face.

“Gah!” he recoiled, weakened.

“Fox, status effect!”

Yusuke pulled out a glass vial with “Fear” written on it and tossed it at the Shadow’s feet.

“What was that?” he asked, taken aback. “What did you do to me?! _What is happening?!_ ” 

Joker looked Haru in the face, still holding her hand, and said, in an incredibly calm voice, “Tarukaja.” The girl felt a surge of power coursing through her and the leader released her hand. “Get him.”

A wide smile appeared on Haru’s face. This was _her_ moment. She adjusted her mask and screamed, triumphantly: “ _Psycho Force!_ ”

The strike was decisive enough to knock him down for good. The group surrounded him, aiming their ranged weapons at him, just in case - with him being beaten, the Gun immunity wasn’t in force.

“Anything clever to add now?” Joker said. “Any excuses to justify your bullcrap?”

The Shadow didn’t respond at first, before muttering a weak “I’m sorry.”

“That means nothing!” Haru shouted. “You’ve tried to hurt me and my friends, and God knows how many other people besides us!”

“Noir…” Joker said, quietly, as Makoto and Yusuke lowered their guns.

“You think you can just _say sorry_ and things will go back to normal?” The Shadow tried to scuttle away, and she followed him, grenade launcher still pointed at him. “That you _deserve_ to live another day?!”

“Noir!”

She was too riled up to listen at that point. “I should end your miserable existence right here-”

“Haru Okumura!” Joker raised his voice. “Put down the weapon, _now_!”

After a pause, she let go of the grenade launcher, allowing it to fall on the ground.

Joker picked the weapon up. “We are _not_ killers.”

“Have you told your new best friend that?” she scoffed.

“Erm, he did,” Akechi piped up. “Yesterday evening.”

“Okay, this train’s heading to Escalation Station,” the leader stepped between them. “We did what we had to, let’s return to the real world and go our separate ways.”

“Fine.” Haru took her weapon and marched past the group. “Morgana, car form, please. ” The cat did as asked, and the girl got onboard.

“Alright, everyone but Queen and Crow, get in the cat!” Joker commanded.

“Do you want anything from us?” Makoto asked.

Joker waited for the rest of the team to be out of earshot, before saying “I want you to keep an eye on Ha- on Noir at school tomorrow. Make sure she stays out of trouble and has a shoulder to lean on.”

“Right. Got it.”

“You’re a lifesaver. And Crow,” he turned to Akechi, “just in case… please, remain silent until we get back to Ōta.”

He opened his mouth, then caught himself, and just nodded.

Joker turned to the defeated Shadow. “C'mon, make like a tree and drop your unique loot so we can all go home.”

Shadow Sugimura disappeared in a flash of white light, leaving behind something on the ground. Makoto bent over to pick it up. “Looks like an engagement ring.”

The brunette took it from her hand. “Looks valuable. I'll stop by the pawn shop on my way to the hotel.”

* * *

The three teens and the cat entered the flat. “Dibs on the shower!” Futaba announced.

Joker removed the bag from his back and pulled a wrapped bundle out of it. “I expected we might end up in hiding and packed a a fresh change of clothes for both of us.”

“Gimme!” Futaba yanked it from his hand.

“Leave the dirty clothes on the pile,” Akechi said, tossing his suit jacket and button-up shirt on the floor. “There were signs about a laundromat in the basement, I’ll check it out later.”

“We’ve got tomorrow free, don’t we?” The brunette added his hoodie to the pile. “We could go out, refill the fridge, and get some threads for you.”

“Sounds like a plan.” The detective sat down on the couch and turned on the TV.

“-oday’s poll is undeniable proof that the Japanese people trust Masayoshi Shido, despite the allegations from the Phantom Thieves,” a pundit finished a sentence. 

Akechi looked down, at the strapline. _FIRST SURVEY AFTER PHANTOM THIEVES’ BROADCAST - 70% SUPPORT SHIDO._ “Fucking sheep.” he muttered to himself.

“We really should’ve seen that coming,” Joker said. “Shido was the leader and you were the enforcer, but the conspiracy is bigger than you two.”

The detective turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “…where are your clothes?”

“In the laundry pile.”

“Of course,” he rolled his eyes. “But yes, you’re correct. If they run down the clock and Shido's party wins, they'll get enough power to not need the Metaverse anymore.”

“And we can’t allow that to happen,” Morgana stated the obvious.

Gears in Akechi’s head started turning. “You know, the party is the problem, but Shido is its frontman and main draw. If we managed to drag his reputation through the mud _somehow,_ the party will go down with him.”

Joker sat down. “I have a friend in the press. If the Thieves got their hands on some concrete evidence of his crap, publishing it wouldn’t be a problem.”

A metaphorical light bulb went over the detective’s head. “And I might be able to help with that.”


	5. Two Lines, No Waiting

Knock knock knock. “Futaba? I can hear you’re not asleep.”

The geek opened the door, wrapped in a coverlet like a mummy. “I am not asleep because _you kept knocking on my door for God knows how long._ ”

“It’s important. Can I get in?”

Groaning in irritation, Futaba moved out of the way, and Akechi entered the room. Both of them sat down, one on her bed and one on the chair. “What do you want?”

“To everyone’s chagrin, Shido remains popular,” he started. “Changing his heart wasn’t enough, so I want to try something else.”

“…go on.”

“He rents an office in the city center, and keeps most of his documents there. I want to search them for kompromats.”

“And - yawn - there’s some security in the way, correct?”

“Correct. I think I can deal with the lock on the door of the office itself, but the building entrance has a card reader I want to bypass.”

“Model? Installation year? Any details to help me?”

“Um, it said _Ohrannik_ on the keypad. It looked a few years old…”

“Gimme your phone.”

Akechi pulled out his smartphone and gave it to her, as she unraveled her cocoon a tiny bit to free her hand. “You don’t have a card in it,” she said, tapping through menus to check something.

“I had to throw it away. I didn’t want to be tracked by the authorities,” he explained. “By the way, the battery’s dying and I don’t have a charger. Could you please…”

“Get off the chair.” Akechi did as ordered and watched as the girl sat by her laptop, unplugged her phone, and plugged his. She then looked up the security company's name. “The company was closed in the late 2000s. An old system, and probably not connected to any external network. I can’t just control it remotely.” 

“What _can_ you do?”

“Is there a cafe, a diner, or something like that nearby?” she asked, opening a browser and looking up some electronic parts and adding them to the cart. “A place where the workers would go for breaks.”

“There’s a small cafe on the ground floor.”

“Perfect.” She grinned. “There will be two obstacles. One is the fact that someone will need to spend half a day in that cafe, and the other,” she pointed at the ‘Total’ amount on the screen, “is the price tag on the equipment. Both for getting inside and for copying things wholesale from any computer you might find inside.“

“Hm…” Akechi rubbed his chin, “I’ll manage.” He pulled out a note block. “Can I note that list down? I’ll look around Akihabara for those, so we won’t have to wait for shipping.”

“Yeah, sure.” Futaba glanced at the detective and realized something’s off. “…are you smiling?”

“Huh?”

“You are, well, were smiling,” she repeated. “And it wasn’t a psychotic sentai villain smile, or a smug prick smile, or a forced smile like you do in public. You looked… genuinely happy.”

“I… did?” he put his hand behind his head. “That’s a new one.” He hastily scribbled the list down and put the note block back in his pocket. “Alright, you probably want to return to sleep. I’ll leave you alone. Thank you for your assistance.” 

He retreated from the room, leaving the girl alone with his charging phone. Futaba glanced at the 52% in the upper left corner.

* * *

“Haru?”

Haru turned around, startled, and relaxed after noticing it was just Makoto. “Please don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry.” She looked at the plants the rich girl was tending to. “I am impressed, you managed to get plants to grow on a Tokyo rooftop in early December.”

“I guess I’m a great gardener.” She smiled sheepishly. “Though prototype seeds from Okumura Foods certainly helped.”

“Feeling better than yesterday?”

“Yes. Sugimura sent me a formal apology letter. It burned nicely.” Haru marched to the rooftop door, and leaned against them. “Since you are here, can we discuss… our intern?”

Makoto needed a second to process the euphemism. “I understand you’re… disappointed with his performance, but I believe allowing him to stay is the right thing to do.”

“We should turn him over to authorities.”

“You know what the police has done to… our director.” Makoto glanced nervously at the door, as if wanting to see through them and the other girl. “I wouldn’t wish that to anyone.”

“And they’ve done it to him because _the intern_ betrayed him,” Haru growled. “He betrayed all of us.”

“And we’re better than him, aren’t we?” Makoto replied. “I understand your reservations, but unfortunately any other alternative would mean either leaving him unattended or leaving him to die.”

“And the latter outcome is bad because…”

Makoto felt like someone dumped a cold bucket of water on her. “Haru… that’s messed up.”

“You know what’s messed up?” Haru glared at her. “Being robbed of an opportunity to see my father be a better person because he was _murdered in cold blood by a sociopathic manchild with daddy issues!_ ”

“Too loud!” Makoto hissed, then glanced at her phone. “The break’s almost over. Can we get back to this conversation after class?”

“I have plans for the afternoon.”

“Evening then?”

“I’ll see. For now, _adieu._ ” Haru politely nodded, then left the rooftop. 

Makoto pulled out her cellphone. _Good news and bad news._

 _Whatshisname pissed off, but she’s bitter about Akechi_ , Joker accurately guessed.

_Can you blame her?_

_Of course not. I know asking you all (but her and Futaba in particular) to tolerate him is a really tall order. But what else can we do?_

_[shrug] Could you give her a call after class? You know, to show her she’s not alone._

_Can do. By the way, I remember you taking driving lessons. How did that go?_

* * *

“Joker?”

He put away his cell phone. “Hm?” 

“When doing yesterday’s laundry, I’ve noticed… things missing from my jacket.”

“What things?”

Akechi looked elsewhere. “Things that would get you in massive trouble if they found them on you.”

“Like, say, handgun ammo?”

Sigh. “And a suppressor.”

“Yeah, we searched you after getting out of Shido’s Palace and confiscated anything you could use in the real world. Sorry for that.”

“Can I borrow your glasses for a moment?” Joker obliged, and Akechi put them on and ruffled his hair. “ _Oh jeez, I am apologetic over having to disarm you, it’s not like you had attempted to commit murder-suicide a moment prior._ ” In case he didn’t get the point, he added “That’s you. This is how you sound right now.”

“Hey, I can do that too.” With a smirk, Joker reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves. He put them on and stroked his chin. “ _Hmmm, this group of vigilantes has targeted my supervillain dad, who I want to crash and burn. That’s a perfect moment to attack them._ ” He put on a fake grin. “ _Ooh, maybe we’ll all kill each other!_ ”

“Seriously though, what _was_ your endgame?” Morgana raised his head. “What did you hope to achieve?”

“I…” Akechi paused, mincing his words, “I don’t think I wanted to _achieve_ something. At that point, it was just a suicidal temper tantrum. My way or the highway.” 

“And ‘your way’ was: step 1, help Shido by murdering the opposition, step 2, take Shido down,” Joker weighed in. “Sounds like too many steps to me.” 

“It was… supposed to be grand,” the detective rose from his seat. “To take him down at the peak of his power, and show the society what their _saviour_ really is like!” A pause, as he slumped back down, staring intently at the floor. “That sounded… less ridiculous one realization ago.” He glanced at Joker. “Are you guys positive you _don’t_ want to kill me after all?”

“Yes, and I’ll throw Morgana at you if you ask again.”

“While we’re on topic of bad plans,” the cat piped up, “I gotta ask: why do you think Shido’s office will have any incriminating documents inside? If I were a head of a country-wide conspiracy - or do anything illegal, really - I wouldn’t have any proof put to paper.”

“Fair point, but let me reply with a question: if you were to fake someone’s suicide, would you _not even bother to check if there's a corpse in the morgue_?” Akechi tented his fingers, “Shido is unbelievably careless, and the only reason it didn’t catch up to him earlier is because _an even bigger fool_ was cleaning up his loose ends.”

“Wait, there’s _another_ assassin?” Joker raised an eyebrow.

“Um, no. I meant me. There weren't any others.”

Cue disbelieving stares from the brunette and the cat. “Let me get this straight:” Morgana said, “the entire conspiracy hinged on _you,_ a single guy, doing the dirty work?”

“A single guy with a _massive_ chip on his shoulder about the leader of said conspiracy,” Joker added.

Akechi nodded.

“I take everything back,” Morgana rolled his eyes. “He’s stupid enough to have a signed confession in his desk drawer or something.”

“Anyway,” Akechi turned to Joker and pulled out a note block from his pocket, “Futaba prepared us a shopping list for the infiltration. Gathering all the parts might end up taking more time than a trip to and from Mementos. I should probably go incognito.”

The brunette glanced at the detective, still wearing his glasses and with his hair ruffled, and something clicked in his head. Without a word, he got up and trotted to his room, and returned after a moment with a spare zip-up hoodie. He gave it to Akechi, who put it on over his undershirt. “Whatcha think?” Joker asked Morgana.

“This… might work,” the cat replied. “You always appear in public in that suit of yours, people probably won’t recognize you if you’re out of it,” he said to Akechi. “The glasses help too.”

“And if someone gets suspicious, just change your voice or something,” Joker added. 

Akechi ahemed. “ _Who, me?_ ” he said, his voice an octave lower, “ _Ya, folks keep tellin’ me I look like that bundle a’ sticks from the telly. I cannae see that meself._ ”

Chef’s kiss. “Perfect.” Joker’s phone beeped. He picked it up and glanced at the screen. “Yusuke wants to drop by after school, is that okay with everyone?”

“We’ll be out shopping,” Akechi remarked. “Ask Futaba.”

* * *

Sometimes, a change of surroundings might be able to improve your productivity. Which is why I sometimes go to a cafe to write this stuff, and why Yusuke had hauled his easel and other art supplies all the way to Ōta.

“Whatcha painting, Inari?” Futaba popped from behind him.

“The sunset over the city,” he replied. “The colours outside are gorgeous.”

“Yeah, they look cool.” 

A period of awkward silence followed. Yusuke put down the paintbrush. “Do you… want anything?”

“Well… I hunger,” she said. “We could order takeaway, but maybe you can cook something. Joker and Akechi bought some grub before leaving.”

The idea of food that he didn’t have to pay for (leaving more cash for art supplies) was appealing. He walked to the kitchenette and inspected the cupboard and the fridge. A package of coarse sausages caught his eye. “Well, I could fry some,” he read the label, “ _kielbasa,_ and serve with with rice on the side. How does that sound?”

“Witcher food!”

Taking that as a yes, Yusuke poured three cups of water into a small pot, put it on the stovetop, and went to cut sausages into slices, when Futaba piped up:

“What was the name of that guy that was training you?”

He put the knife away, mid-slice, expecting a heavy question to follow. “Ichiryuusai Madarame.”

“If he…”Futaba looked elsewhere, “if he approached you on the street and told you he regrets everything and wants to say sorry, what would you do?”

There it is. “It’s… complicated.” He turned to her. “I _want_ to believe that there’s a sliver of goodness left in him, but the truth of the matter is, he is responsible for both my mother’s death and my personal… quirks…” At that exact moment, he realized why could she possibly be asking that question. “…but it isn’t about him, is it?”

“Wow, you read me like a PDF,” she smiled, weakly. “Yes, it’s actually about that little rootkit sharing a flat with me.” Inhale. “It was easy to hate him when he’s talking about killing Joker, or hamming it up in Shido’s Palace, but when you _live_ with him… he’s, well, rather affable.”

“That _could_ be a facade,” Yusuke pointed out. “He has a lot of experience in faking affability.”

“I know, but…” the girl looked down, “that facade reminds me a bit of how I used to be.”

“Does it?”

“Okay, it’s mostly his suicidal ideation. That belief that you should just curl up and die.”

“Hm…” the boy muttered. “Considering what we witnessed in Shido’s Palace, it might be genuine after all. Where is he now, by the way?”

An impish grin appeared on Futaba’s face. “Come to my battlestation, I’ll show you.”

The two marched to the girl’s bedroom, and she sat down by her laptop. She clicked on the A-looking protractor icon on the taskbar and opened an IDE. 

“It’s a small app I’ve been working on,” she explained, trying to use simple words. “It’s supposed to do two things: send and receive encrypted messages between the Phantom Thieves, and quietly track the position of a specific cell phone.” She launched the emulator. “For now, I’m testing it on Joker’s phone, since Akechi doesn’t have a SIM card yet, but they’re staying together for now, so…” She poked the blue dot on the map. “They’re in Akiha, doing some shopping for me.”

“Shopping for what?”

“Well, Akechi wants to stealthily get inside Shido’s office…”

* * *

“Let’s check what we have already:” Joker pulled out the shopping list, “Card reader?”

Akechi glanced into the bag and nodded.

“Coil?”

Nod.

“Microcontroller?” 

Nod.

“Battery pack?”

Nod.

“SSD?”

Nod. 

“SIM card for you?” 

Akechi shook his head. 

“Okay, we’ll get that in a moment.” Joker pulled out his phone. “I forgot I was supposed to give Haru a call.” He found her on the contact list and tapped her name.

"The number you're trying to reach is currently unavailable."

* * *

When you take away a Palace owner’s Treasure, the place ceases to exist. Conversely, if it stays within the borders of the Palace, the place remains standing.

And as it turned out, in the latter case the Palace persists in some form even if the domain holder has a change of heart on their own.

A small room, tucked somewhere in the corner of consciousness. In it, two chairs and a table. On the table, a handgun, with two bullets missing. A few days before, a group stopped by and left two spare magazines and a suppressor next to it. 

A person entered the room. With a shaking hand, they took the gun from the table and inspected it. After some fumbling, they managed to swap the magazine for a full one, but the suppressor just didn’t want to stick to the barrel, so they didn’t attach it, and just put it in their pocket, next to the handgun. Then, they hastily left the building, and then the Metaverse. 

The phone picked up the signal and beeped a few times. They glanced at the screen. An SMS about two missed calls from Joker, and a message from Futaba in the Thieves' group chat. Haru tapped the latter notification.

_Hey all, I have an app I want you to install. [link]_


	6. No Social Skills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2020-07-21 edit: changed Akechi's hissy fit to be more blasé, to keep the characterization in line with other chapters

The door beeped, and Joker, Akechi and Morgana entered the flat.

“Ah, you have returned,” Yusuke put aside his brush. “There’s some leftover rice and kiełbasa left, do you want me to reheat it for you?”

“Yep!” Morgana replied, and the artist went to the stovetop.

“Toys for me!” Futaba ran to the group and yanked one of the bags from the group. She reached inside and pulled out a white T-shirt with thin black, grey and violet stripes on the edges of the sleeves.

“These are clothes for Akechi, you want _this_ bag,” Joker extended his other arm, and the girl grabbed the the bag from it.

“Rootkit, your phone,” she demanded, and after getting it, promptly returned to her room.

“I like her enthusiasm,” the detective remarked, as him and the brunette entered the living room.

“May I ask you a question, Joker?” Yusuke said, stirring the mixed rice and meat on the pan.

“Sure.”

“Why weren’t the other Phantom Thieves informed about the current plan of Akechi’s?”

“Because I don’t want to get people’s hopes up,” the brunette replied. “This is both different from what we’re usually doing, and hinges on Shido being stupid enough to have anything incriminating lying around.”

“And on Akechi’s loyalty,” Yusuke shot the detective a subtle death glare.

“Believe it or not, I got it through my thick skull that going against the Thieves is a bad idea,” he replied. “And besides, we share a goal, we both want Shido taken down, fast. Pragmatism alone makes a second betrayal unlikely.”

“You could say the same thing about the first one.” The artist sighed. “Do not get me wrong, I _want_ to believe you’re trustworthy, but the last time I was in a similar situation the person turned out to be responsible for my mother’s passing.”

The detective covered his face with his hand. “Please don’t tell me I killed a _third_ parent on the team.”

“...your Persona cannot induce seizures, can it?”

“Nope.”

“It was unrelated to you, then.”

Akechi was relieved for a few seconds before remembering that _normal_ people don’t have worries like that and the guilt came back. Futaba walked out of her bedroom, triumphantly opened the front door, and put the detective’s phone to the lock. It let out a confirmatory beep.

“Exposition, please,” Joker said.

“I’ve managed to boost the reader so that it’s capable of getting data from cards in people’s pockets from a few meters away,” she explained, closing the door. “Then, I can transfer the data to a phone with NFC, like the one that the rootkit has, and use it like a normal card.” She returned to her room and came back with what looked like a bunch of scrap electronics attached to a large coil. “The whole thing isn’t _small,_ but it’s portable enough to hide it in a sports bag and bring it to somewhere where lots of office drones may gather.”

“Like a cafe on the ground floor,” Akechi said, taking his phone from her.

“I don’t think the workers are going to gather there after school hours,” Yusuke pointed out. “Are there any inconspicuous adults we could ask to go there on the morning or the afternoon?”

“I have a few friends that owe me a favour,” the brunette replied, pulling out his phone. “Bee-arr-bee, gonna make a call or two,” he said, marching towards his bedroom and locking himself inside.

“I never got around to asking:” the artist turned to the detective, “why are you wearing Joker’s hoodie and glasses?”

“Disguise.” Akechi took the glasses off and put them on the counter. “Worked like a charm, by the way.”

“Fitting for a rootkit,” Futaba muttered.

“Okay, I’m curious,” the detective turned to her, “what _is_ a rootkit anyway?”

“In simple terms: malicious software created to get access to an otherwise verboten part of the system, often concealing its presence.”

“Hm.” Akechi took a moment to understand the ‘simple terms’. “I like it. It’s personalized and clever. Better than hearing ‘Gory and Sketchy’ for the umpteenth time. How’s food?“

“Should be warm enough.” Yusuke put three bowls on the table and poured the food into them. The detective sat by the table, and the cat jumped on it, and they started eating. Futaba and Yusuke joined them, for companionship. “Joker!” the artist called. “I will _not_ reheat that again!”

“Ten seconds!” he shouted from the other side of the flat. “Yeah, I’ll send you the address… You just have to sit there with the device… Thanks. Lovely, see ya tomorrow. Good news, everyone!” he burst out of his room and marched to the living room. “A friend of mine agreed to deal with the data collecting!” He sat down next to Akechi and handed over his phone to him. “Text her the cafe address. She’ll pick up the device tomorrow.”

He typed it in and sent the message. “So…” he put the phone away, “...we’re doing it.”

“And we wouldn’t be able to do it _nom_ without you.”

Akechi stared at Joker, puzzled. “Um, you _totally_ would. You got the parts, Futaba put them _nom_ together, your friend will get entry card data, and Yusuke _nom_ cooked dinner. Thanks for that, by the way.”

The artist nodded in acknowledgement.

“Only you know where the _nom_ office is,” Joker pushed.

“It’s not really a secret, Shido _nom_ used to give legal advice from there. If you put ‘shido _nom_ office’ in a search engine, you’ll get the address on the first page.”

“Truth be told,” Yusuke piped up, “we probably wouldn’t have even _considered_ the possibility of physical infiltration. Metaverse operations were usually sufficient.”

Akechi threw the chopsticks down in frustration. “Can you _please_ drop the forced politeness and compliments?”

Joker put another morsel in his mouth. “Can you _please_ accept that there’s nothing _forced_ in the politeness? You can be _nom_ both a mess with lots of things on your conscience and a valuable member of the team.”

“I think some things bear reiterating.” The detective stood up from the table. “Our goals are aligned, so I will remain loyal, but if you really believe that I am, was, or will ever be a member of the team, you're a fool. That is all, goodnight.” He marched back to his bedroom, as the artist, the geek, the brunette and the cat watched him, too puzzled to react.

“Well…” Morgana finally broke the silence, “I call dibs on his food.”

“Please tell me he will not be unsupervised,” Yusuke muttered under his breath.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Joker replied. “There’ll be a few subtle measures in place.”

* * *

It was just before seven AM when the train rolled to the Otorii station and Chihaya Mifune got off it.

It wasn’t _too_ crowded yet, and she was able to spot him almost immediately. He was sitting there, waiting for her with a sports bag on his knees and a black cat by his side.

“Hey!” he waved as she approached. “Thanks again for helping me out with that.”

“It’s no problem, really.” She took the bag. “I’m working evenings anyway, I can spend a few hours in a cafe. Besides, the cards told me nothing will happen to me.”

“To you, huh?” Morgana piped up.

“Did they say anything about me or the operation as a whole?” Joker asked, knowing she doesn’t understand the cat.

“It should… _kind of_ work.”

“ _Kind of?_ ”

“Further divinations didn’t give me anything more precise.”

* * *

Futaba barged into Akechi’s bedroom without bothering to knock. The inhabitant was lying on his bed, with his clothes on, staring blankly into the ceiling.

“Rootkit!” she announced. “Two things to discuss!” She showed him an SSD with a USB cable attached to one of the ports. “Thing one is this little drive. If there'll be any PCs in the office, plug it in, turn it on, select the disk from the boot menu, and let it do its magic.”

“And thing two?”

“You’re going to say sorry to Joker when he gets back from the station. We need to work through your issues if you wanna work with us.”

He lifted his head and glanced at her. “What would your mother say if she saw you trying to comfort her killer?”

“Oh, I know that dance,” she said, trying to pretend the question wasn't an incredibly low blow. “Step one, push away people who wanna help, step two, wallow in self-loathing when they leave.”

“Answer the question.”

“She would’ve been _proud_.” She started breathing to calm herself down, and her palms started twitching. “She would’ve been proud… that I’m getting out of my shell… and having a normal conversation with someone… even though that someone is an _asshole with a death wish._ ” A few deep breaths, giving Akechi ample time to realize he crossed a line with a nice long jump. “They dragged me out of my slump, Joker and I will drag you outta yours.”

“Well, unlike you, I _kinda sorta_ deserve-”

“ _Irrelevant!_ ” Akechi actually recoiled away from the girl. “Nobody _deserves_ to think about themselves like that! Ask Joker, ask Morgana, dig up my mother’s grave and _ask her_ and _they’ll all tell you the same fucking thing!_ ”

“Alright, fine, I’ll talk to Joker!” the detective raised his hands in surrender. “Just… don’t get worked up like that. Deep breaths.”

The front door beeped and Joker and Morgana barged into the flat, then into the detective’s bedroom. “Is everything alright? I’ve heard some screams on the staircase.”

Cue a several-seconds-long exhale from Futaba. “I’m fine. Akechi’s a jerk, but that’s nothing new. He agreed to talk to you about his problems.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving the brunette, the cat and the detective alone.

“Morgana, could you please leave? This’ll be personal.” Joker closed the door behind him and sat down on the chair next to the bed. He glanced at Akechi. “Soooo, do you want to start?”

“Where, though?” he returned to lying down. “You know my past, my present, my inner demons, my outer demons… I’m an open book to you.”

“We could go back to the thing you’ve said yesterday evening,” the brunette said. “I mean, as far as I'm concerned, you _are_ a member of the team. Or at least _were_.”

“Sae’s Palace’s infiltration doesn’t count,” he scowled. “I blackmailed my way into your ranks solely to get you in a position where I could shoot you in your stupid face.” Sigh. “You know what, you won’t snap at me for it, so I’ll be direct:” He closed his eyes. “I regret that. I regret _everything that led me to this point_. Not even from a pragmatic standpoint - from a ‘this was morally wrong and I deserve to be hanged’ standpoint. Now, what should I do about that to hate myself less?”

“Hmm…” Joker rubbed his chin. “Try and right your wrongs?”

Akechi turned his head and looked at him. “You haven’t befriended any necromancers, have you?”

“No.”

“Maybe you have access to a time machine then?”

“Ha ha, no.”

“Then _what_ can I do?”

Joker rubbed his chin. “Hmmm… off the top of my head, you could help us take Shido down. By, for example, breaking into his office to look for dirt we could leak to the press to reveal his true nature.” He smiled.

“That doesn’t count,” the detective rolled his eyes. “I’m not doing that because it’s the right thing to do, I’m doing this for vengeance.”

The brunette got up from his chair and walked to the door, to check if nobody was listening, then returned to the chair and looked Akechi in the eyes. “That’s how the Phantom Thieves started out.”

Akechi was blindsided by that remark. The image of Joker he envied, he _despised,_ was an incorruptible pure warrior of justice, fairness, and other goody-goody abstract concepts, infinitely better than the detective himself would ever be. “Uh, what?”

“Picture, if you will, three teenagers.” A noticeable scowl appeared on his face. “A former track team member, overtrained to the point of literally breaking a leg. A newly arrived student, smeared with false rumours before he even set foot in the school. And an,” cue air quotes, “‘exotic’ girl who was told that either she’ll sleep with the PE teacher or he’ll go after her best friend.”

“Sakamoto, you, and Takamaki?”

“Yes. Ann told the teacher to sod off, and... he carried out his threat,” he went on, his voice disturbingly tranquil. “Her friend, Shiho Suzui, tried to kill herself by jumping off the school rooftop. She lived, but required months of painful rehabilitation.” Sigh. “That PE teacher was our first target. Before we even called ourselves the Phantom Thieves.” Joker adjusted his glasses. “Suguru _motherfucking_ Kamoshida. We didn’t know what would happen if we infiltrated his Palace and stole his Treasure. Morgana, for all good he was and still is, wasn’t sure of that himself. But after Shiho jumped off that roof… we didn’t care. If he would die, he would die.”

“But he lived… yes?”

A pause. Akechi was _almost_ sure that he remembered the news about him admitting what he did, and he had to be alive for that, hadn’t he? “Only because Ann decided him getting killed would’ve been an easy way out for him,” Joker finally said. “Now I see that this was the right thing to do, but back then… Ryuji claimed he didn’t _really_ want him to die, but I can’t say that about myself for sure.” Another sigh. “Anyway, the point I was going for: doing right thing for wrong reasons is still doing the right thing. A gateway drug to doing the right thing for the right reasons.”

“Hm.” The detective sat up. “That was… unexpected. I have no idea if that’ll help me ahead, but… well, you’ve bared a chunk of your soul to me. To _the guy that shot you in the face_.”

Joker shrugged. “You said it yourself: I'm a fool.”

Akechi got up, marched to the door to check if anyone’s listening, then marched back to Joker. “Just this time, I appreciate that foolishness. I’ll try to be… less difficult in the future.”

“Thanks.” The brunette smiled. “We have a few hours to kill, wanna order takeaway and watch American cartoons?”

“Yeah, sure, why not? But I have to apologize to Futaba first. I’ve said some… things that were uncalled for.”

The two marched out of the detective’s bedroom and into the living room. Futaba and Morgana were giving them awkward looks.

“Is something wrong, folks?”

Morgana looked to the side. “...we don’t think you’re foolish.”

Realization flashed on Joker’s face. “...is my phone still bugged, Futaba?”

“A guy can’t have a private conversation in this house.” Akechi rolled his eyes. “Anyway,” he outstretched his hand towards the girl. “I’m sorry for being a jerk earlier today.” Pause. “And you can punch me if you want to.”

Futaba attempted to do so, but the detective grabbed her by the wrist. “No, no, not like this. You don’t put a thumb _inside_ the fist, you’ll only hurt yourself.” He allowed himself to move the finger into the proper position. “You put it right _here,_ so it keeps all the other fingers in place, so you hit harder. Now, try it.”

After a moment of staring at him in confusion, Futaba punched. Akechi _felt_ the impact, but calling it painful would be a massive stretch.

“...yeah, don’t quit the support role.”


	7. Right Under Their Noses

Futaba happened to have an HDMI cable, and so she could plug her laptop to the TV and play cartoon episodes from _completely legal_ streaming sites. Joker ordered some noodles for everyone and the three plus cat ended up kicking back until the sun set.

“So wait,” Akechi said, as the end credits of a finale movie rolled in, “we're supposed to feel _sorry_ for that short guy now because he had a mean big brother? Why couldn't they make him just… apologize without throwing in a disposable hate sink?”

“Yeah, the other kids would probably accept the apology,” Futaba remarked, petting Morgana. “It's not like he killed someone's mom or something.”

Akechi noticed the jab but couldn’t care less. “Exactly!”

“Maybe he did,” Joker shrugged. “We didn’t see any parents around, did we?” His phone beeped. “Ooh, my friend brought the card reader back.” He got up from the couch and marched to the exit. “Be back in a bit!” he proclaimed, slamming the door behind himself.

The detective looked at Futaba. “When he comes back, how long will it take for you to copy the data to my phone?” 

“Two minutes tops.”

Akechi smiled. “You’re invaluable.”

The girl glanced at him, still unable to compute the honest smile on his face. “Are you fine with me making cracks about my mom’s death?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, I got pretty miffed about your… your thoughts, I shouldn’t be pushing more things to that branch.”

“I really appreciate that you’re worried about it. I don’t _deserve_ it-”

“Say you don’t deserve something again and you’ll regret it.” Futaba adjusted her glasses. 

The detective looked at her, with an expression that could be described as ‘was that a challenge?’. “I do not _deserve_ your wo-”

“Morgana, bite him.”

“Wha- _ow_!”

Futaba scratched the cat behind his ear. “It’s not about what you _deserve,_ it’s about what you _need._ And what you need right now is people that aren’t hostile to you and won’t let your karma meter dip too low.”

Akechi lifted his finger, with Morgana still attached to it. “And a cat bite, apparently.” 

“Uhm not uh khut,” the cat protested.

The detective shook him off. “But anyway, on some level, I _appreciate_ the jokes about my sins. They break the tension. If I had to think about… _everything I’ve done up to this point_ with a completely straight face, I would’ve gone mad.“

The girl smiled. “You’re welcome, rootkit. Should I put up something else?”

“I really shouldn’t stall any longer.” He got up. “I’m going to get dressed for the mission.”

* * *

Akechi was standing in front of the mirror, inspecting his disguise.

He liked formal wear. He loved suits, ties, vests, button-up shirts. That was one of the few things of his carefully constructed public image that he enjoyed wholeheartedly. When people thought “Goro Akechi”, the next thought was “sharply-dressed”. That meant literally nobody would recognize him in a dark grey tracksuit, flat cap and sneakers. The shopping trip to Akihabara proved beyond doubt that if he dressed like that, ruffled his hair and borrowed Joker’s aesthetic glasses again, he’d be unrecognizable. 

The door beeped and the devil himself entered the house, with his sports bag in tow. “Missed me?” If this was a sitcom, there would be hooting and whistling from the audience. But since it isn’t, there was only Futaba grabbing the bag and Akechi’s phone and returning to her room with her laptop.

“Indeed I did,” the detective said. “I need to re-zero the firearm.”

“Or maybe you just can’t hit anything at non-point-blank range,” the brunette chuckled, taking off his glasses with one hand and reaching for something with the other. “Here, and you can borrow my gloves too.”

“Lovely.” Akechi took off his brown gloves and replaced it with brunette’s black ones. 

“By the way, tomorrow there might be a Phantom Thieves’ meeting here,” Joker went on. “Chihaya, my friend, mentioned something about an asshole middle-manager lashing out, but couldn’t get his full name. She’s going to return there tomorrow to try and get it out of him.” 

“Can I confess something?”

“I left my collar in the dryer, but go on.”

Akechi took a deep breath. “You’re… annoying as hell. I’m _absurdly_ envious of how you manage to remain casual considering…” he gestured vaguely at everything around.

“Well, there was that time I snapped at you when we went shopping, but that was early on,” Joker pointed out. “There were kinks in characterization to iron out.”

“Can I continue?”

“Of course. I assume there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

“Correct. You’re annoying, but… you’ve dragged me out of a certain death from what was, without a doubt, the lowest, the stupidest and the most shameful point of my life.”

Futaba slammed the door to her bedroom open. “Rootkit, your phone! The app’s on the home screen.”

“Thank you.” Annoyed at being interrupted, he took it from her hand, and put it in his pocket next to the SSD. “You have saved me,” he continued, “and for that alone, both you as individuals and the Phantom Thieves of Hearts as a group have my loyalty, for what little it is worth.” He adjusted the glasses and grabbed the doorknob. “I will not disappoint you today. Crow, out.” 

Joker put his arm on his shoulder. “Stay safe.”

“I will.”

And with that said, Goro Akechi left the flat. After waiting for a moment, just in case he left something behind, Joker and Futaba turned around and marched to Futaba’s bedroom.

“Do you trust him?”

“I do,” the brunette pulled out his phone, “I just want all my bases covered.” He opened Futaba’s chat application and tapped the crown symbol. _How’s the getaway car?_

_Parked in front of the hotel. I see Crow has left the building. Someone’s following him, I assume._

_Of course_ , Joker typed.

* * *

After what was the longest commute of his life, Akechi found himself in front of the skyscraper. The lights in most offices were turned off, including the one he was interested in. He pulled out his phone and noticed a new icon on the home screen. He tapped it, and was shown a welcome blurb: 

_SESAME v2.22. By AliBaba. All lefts reversed._

A few combinations of numbers and letters - though weirdly enough, only A to F - appeared on the screen. Next to each was a button labelled “Replay credentials”. The detective casually strolled to the front door and put his phone to the card reader while pressing one of the buttons. The LED on the flashed green and the device beeped in confirmation. The door unlocked, and he entered.

From there, he moved on autopilot. Stairs to the correct floor, marching down the empty carpeted corridor until stumbling upon the door with a plaque reading “Masayoshi Shido, Diet Member, United Future Party” on it. The lights on the corridor were off, and he didn’t hear anyone in the vicinity, so he pulled out some tools he prepared beforehand and went to lockpicking. This took a few minutes longer than he wanted, since he decided to manipulate the pins using his right hand - using his dominant left would’ve narrowed the suspect list a bit _too_ much if someone had noticed him. But, finally, the door opened, and he got inside.

He turned the light on. The office was just as he remembered: a desk, a chair by it, a couch and a coffee table for guests. And no other ways besides the door to enter it, since the air vents were closed, and the window was way too high. Akechi quietly turned back to the door and opened it and, as expected, a cat tumbled inside.

“Meow?”

“And a meow to you too, Mor- um, Mona,” the detective smiled. “Come in, nobody’s here but us.”

The cat did as ordered and Akechi closed the door behind him. “You’re taking being followed on a solo mission remarkably well.”

“I basically gave my phone to Oracle so she could bug it,” he replied. “Just because I said I’m loyal to you doesn’t mean I expect unconditional trust. Heck, I would be worried if you _didn’t_ try and watch me.”

* * *

Back in the hideout, Joker, Makoto and Futaba went pale.

“Should we abandon ship?” Makoto asked. 

“Not yet.” Joker muttered.

“But why did you reveal you know you’re bugged and followed?” Morgana’s voice came out of the speakers.

“Simple,” Akechi replied. “Joker needs both eyes - that’s you - and ears - that’s my bugged phone - to confirm beyond doubt that I’m not doing anything shady. You’d have difficulty entering the office and watching me, leaving doubts about my loyalty.”

“And now we’re doubting that you’ll follow orders without someone watching you,” Makoto muttered.

“And now we’re doubting that you’ll follow orders without someone watching you,” Morgana repeated.

“So, nothing changes in that regard,” the detective replied.

“How quickly can we pack ourselves and run?” Joker muttered.

“Ten seconds to unplug and pack everything on my side,” Futaba replied.

“We stay for now then.” His phone buzzed, and he picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Um, hey,” Ryuji spoke up on the other side. “I was messing around with the new app from Futaba, and why are you and Akechi in different cities?”

“He’s doing some PT work for us,” Joker replied. “Don’t worry, he’s still watched. And listened to.”

* * *

After a quick raking, the lock in the desk’s drawer gave in. Akechi opened it and pulled out everything in it. Multiple folders, brochures and loose documents.

“We’re photographing everything and letting Joker’s press contact sort it out.” Akechi muttered, sitting down and pulling out his phone.

The next few minutes went by in silence. Take photograph of page, make sure it’s clear enough when zoomed in, if it is, move the paper to a separate pile, face down, so that at the end they could all return to the drawer in the same order, repeat. Things were going smoothly - smoothly enough that I’m actually padding to convey the noticeable length of time that went into Akechi’s copier impression.

And then the two noticed a notebook, smaller in sheet area than all the other papers.

“Huh. Joker has a similar one for his journal,” Morgana remarked. “I wonder what’s inside.”

“Dear Diary, today I lied to the people of Japan that I respect them. Again. Idiots.” The detective chuckled to himself, then opened the notebook and felt like someone stabbed him in the back.

It was a list of names. Some of them written in pencil, then in ballpoint pen, and others just pencilled in. Almost all of them crossed out, on the first page and the few that followed. Akechi attempted to read all of them, but his eyes glazed over after he processed one from the first page of the list:

Wakaba Isshiki.

“It’s…” he flipped the pages, “it’s a list of people Shido wanted dead. A list of… everyone I killed.” After a very long pause, he put it down. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, to no one in particular. “For what little it is worth.”

Akechi returned to photographing documents, more mechanically than he had been a moment ago. Morgana opened the notebook, out of morbid curiosity, and flipped to the last filled out page. “‘The leader of the Phantom Thieves.’ No real names. And there’s no one but Joker here.”

“I didn’t use real names. And murdering everyone involved would have made too big a splash.” Pause. “Or maybe I was so full of myself that I thought the group will collapse after Joker bites the dust.” Another pause. “Or maybe I just like you all, _I don’t know_ , don’t ask me to apply logic to my past actions. There was none.”

The cat looked at the bottom of the page and tilted his head. “I think you should see that.”

“I’m busy. Read it out loud.”

“Me reading it won’t get it across.”

Akechi rolled his eyes, irritated, then took the notebook from the cat. “ _Sae Niijima_. Pencilled in, not crossed out.”

“Below.”

His eye shifted downwards. “ _Akechi_. In pen. Underlined.” He glanced at Morgana. “We’ve already established well enough he wanted me dead the moment I stop being useful.”

The cat glanced back. “I feel there’s something symbolic about you being on this list.”

“If you say something about me being a victim like the others, I will get up and throw myself out of the window,” he growled. The phone buzzed in his hand. “Two text messages. Joker says _Don’t do that._ and Oracle says _dont do that!!!_.”

“Your own victims tell you to stay alive,” Morgana muttered. “It has to mean _something_.”

“Mona…” he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, “I’ll buy you a big can of tuna if you remain silent until we get on the train.”

The cat nodded, and the detective returned to photographing documents.

* * *

“So, my sister’s a ‘maybe’ in Shido’s little death note,” Makoto muttered. “Lovely.”

“What can he even _do_ now that Akechi’s on our side?” 

“Kill her in the real world?”

The brunette facepalmed. “Sorry. I keep forgetting you can do things _outside_ the Metaverse.”

“Well, up until now we operated mostly inside it.” Futaba remarked.

“That’s... worrying, you know.”

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s awfully convenient that the Phantom Thieves were able to solve every problem so far with Metaverse access, isn’t it? Like," he glanced at Makoto, "no offense, a schoolmate bumbles into a three-million-yen debt with a yakuza boss? Steal his heart, so he confesses to his crimes and leaves her alone.” 

“Sorry for that, again.”

“An anonymous hacker group threatens to expose you?” Joker went on. “Oh look, your guardian’s daughter is a master h4x0r who can be helped by heart-stealing. By the way, Futaba, you’re invaluable.”

She smiled proudly.

“A celebrity detective wants to get you arrested and fake your suicide in custody? The last palace has a copy of the interrogation room, so you can let him shoot your cognitive double and convince the prosecutor to help you escape!” He sprung up. “And that only _barely_ worked because I got drugged off my ass and _remembered there was a plan at the last moment!_ ”

“You’re riling yourself up,” Makoto remarked, politely yet firmly. “Deep breaths.”

Joker slowly inhaled, then exhaled, then inhaled again. “What I’m saying is, we’re _lucky._ ” He sat down. “And that luck _will_ run out at some point, if it didn’t already.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as to call us _lucky_ ,” Makoto remarked. “Futaba and you are now in hiding, for starters.”

“We’re alive, sane, and capable of fighting back,” Joker countered. 

“ _And_ it seems we managed to convert Rootkit to our colours,” Futaba added.

“Uppercase R,” the brunette muttered. “Is that now an official nickname?”

Futaba shrugged. “I guess?” 

* * *

Meanwhile, on Akechi’s side, things went fine.

Shocking, I know.

He took photographs of every document he could get his gloves on, returned everything to its place, and relocked every unlocked lock before leaving, uninterrupted. Morgana watched him the whole time, patiently, and noticed no suspicious behaviour that’d suggest he’s a mole.

After they were done, the detective and the cat left the building and marched towards the station, taking the scenic route and making sure they aren’t followed. On the way, Akechi stopped by a corner shop and bought two cans of tuna for the cat, as promised. When they got on the train, he found a seat and Morgana placed himself on his knees. The train took off, and Morgana finally spoke up:

“Well, that worked.”

“Uh huh,” Akechi muttered.

“Worst case scenario, we got nothing out of that, but we also didn’t got captured or anything. Best case scenario - dirt on Shido!”

He nodded in response. The two didn’t speak for a minute or so before Akechi opened his mouth: “Can I… pet you?”

“Yes, but _gently_ ,” he replied. “No button mashing.”

“What?”

“Long story.”

Akechi ended up rubbing Morgana’s head and scratching him behind the ears all the way to Otorii - and it was fun. Finally, the train rolled onto the station, and the duo got off and marched to the hotel. When they turned a corner, they noticed a familiar face by the hotel entrance, staring into the distance, wearing a trenchcoat over her usual attire.

“Haru?” Morgana asked. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hey,” she waved at them. “I wanted to talk to Akechi in private.“

“ _Who, that detective kid?_ ” Akechi said, then chuckled to himself. “What about?”

“ _In private._ ”

“Oh, okay.” The detective pulled out his phone and put it in the cat’s mouth. “Go upstairs, I’ll join you later.” Morgana nodded and went ahead, let into the building by Akechi, who turned to the girl. “Okay, what did you want to talk about?”

“Could we go somewhere more private? There are laundromats in the basements, for example.”

“Alright, you either want to sleep with me or kill me. If the former, no, and if the la… tter…” He paused, as Haru reached into the coat and pulled out a _very_ familiar-looking handgun. “…yeah, laundromat sounds okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that want to see ~~Gopnik~~ Goro Akechi incognito, wren was kind enough to draw it: [[link]](https://www.patreon.com/posts/sketch-request-5-47330500)


	8. Please Kill Me If It Satisfies You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, content warning time: this chapter is much heavier on drama (or on being nonchalant about blatantly foreshadowed stuff at least) than those before it - unless your sense of humour is particularly bleak.

Let’s go back a few days.

“Still unconscious,” Joker said, marching downstairs. The rest of the Phantom Thieves were already waiting for him. The calling card was prepared, Futaba was waiting for an order to send it. 

“Is he even still alive?” Ryuji asked.

“I checked with a mirror, he’s breathing.” The brunette sat down next to his friends. “I think we shouldn’t wait for him to wake up and just go for the Treasure tonight, before someone notices he's missing.”

“And leave the bastard alone with Boss?”

“I’ll manage,” the barista said.

“We could have someone stay behind and keep watch on him. One man down in Shido’s Palace still leaves seven of us, and I can make up for whatever element’s missing,” Joker offered. “Is anyone willing to skip the final boss?”

Nobody responded for a few moments, and then someone raised her hand.

“Are you sure?” the brunette asked. “I feel like you should be in the forward team for the boss fight.”

“I’m sure,” Haru replied. “I want to be here if _he_ tries anything funny, so I can _kill him myself_.”

“Okay, if that’s how we do it,” Joker turned to the geek, not thinking about the word choice. “Oracle, do your magic.”

* * *

Back in the present, Akechi didn’t resist. 

He marched downstairs to the basement, then through the door with a washing machine pictogram on it. There were two washing machines and a dryer inside, with card readers attached above the coin slots, so guests of the hotel could use them at no charge. Haru followed him, and closed the door behind them, then pulled out the handgun and pointed it in his general direction, as he turned around to face her.

“Could I at least get an explanation?” he asked, nonplussed.

“You know what you did.”

“I killed your father.”

“It’s not about that.”

Akechi raised an eyebrow. “…did I kill both your parents?”

“Not as far as I know- ugh, what did you do _today_?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’ll explain what you’re on about, otherwise we’ll waste the whole evening on my guesses.”

The girl pulled out a phone with her other hand and showed it to him. “Futaba sent us a chat app yesterday. It came with an extra functionality - it allows _everyone_ to see your position in real time. And you spent the whole evening away from Joker, in some office building. Guess who’s the first result when you look up its address?” 

“Masayoshi Shido?” the detective replied, unfazed. “I broke into his office looking for kompromats to send to the press.”

“Of course you did,” she scoffed, putting her phone away. “It’s such a pity nobody can confirm that.”

“Morgana can. He was with me the whole time. Or Futaba, who’s bugged my phone and listened to everything I said there. That’s why I gave Mona my phone when you said you want to talk in private.” He took a step forward. “Heck, we can go upstairs and ask the-”

She poked him with the gun barrel. “Stay where you are.” 

“Okay, okay.” Akechi backed away, hands raised.

“Why did nobody tell me about this whole plan?”

“Because, and these are Joker’s words, not mine, we don’t want getting people’s hopes up. I don’t know if what I’ve taken is incriminating, I just photographed everything that looked like a document, and some things that weren’t. If you go upstairs and ask him, he’ll confirm it.”

“And how can I be sure you didn’t brainwash him or something, huh?!” she raised her voice.

“If I could do that to Joker, _you_ would be able to do that to _me,_ and trust me, I’d have rolled out a bloody red carpet and we wouldn't be having this conversation.” Pause. “You’re grasping at straws, Haru. This is just a misunderstanding, I haven’t double-crossed you since you dragged me out of that accursed engine room, and I can prove it if we just go upstairs.”

A rather long pause followed.

“Does that even matter, though?” she asked, in an ever-so-slightly _off_ tone.

For the first time that evening, the thought of not getting out of this room alive had crossed Akechi’s mind.

“I could just say I didn’t know anything,” she went on, “and you weren’t answering questions, so I _could_ jump to a wrong conclusion. There would have been a struggle, I wouldn’t even have noticed when the gun fired and you toppled on the ground and bled out…”

“Grab it with both hands,” he commanded.

“Huh?”

“Put your left hand around your right and grip the gun tightly,” he attempted to demonstrate with his own hands. “There will be recoil. And _take aim,_ for God’s sake. That isn’t a model grenade launcher, you need to be _precise_ with it.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Haru was taken aback, but kept the weapon pointed at him.

“If you’re going to shoot me, do it _properly_. Right now, if you’ll hit me at all, you’ll hit me somewhere here,” he tapped his left shoulder. “Line up the front and rear sights, and aim for the center of mass. Or for the head, I don’t plan to move, so it doesn’t matter.”

Reluctantly, she adjusted her grip and aimed the gun. Akechi found himself staring down the barrel. He was always curious if you could see if there’s a chambered bullet from the business end. “You should attach a suppressor. We’re in a small underground room, the gunshot will be literally deafening.”

“You’re serious about all this, aren’t you?” Haru asked.

“Just trying to make this as swift and painless for you as possible.”

“For me?”

“I’ll be too dead to care.” 

Another pause followed. The detective wondered - for the suppressor to not be useless, the gun had to use subsonic ammunition. Human reaction time was around a quarter of a second, so if the gunshot and the bullet were more than that apart he could’ve been able to technically register it before dying, assuming instant death when bullet reaches him. Speed of sound was 343 meters per second, and while he didn’t measure the bullet speed himself, he read somewhere that subsonic 9mm bullets commonly travel at around 300 meters per second. So after a second the sound would’ve been 43 meters ahead of the bullet and after a quarter of a second… wait a minute, how long was he thinking about that?

“You _are_ aware that the longer you hesitate, the more likely it is that someone’ll step in and prevent you from taking the shot, aren’t you?” he spoke up.

Haru didn’t reply at first. “If I… If I follow through… will I be any better than you?” 

“I mean, at this point I’ve killed… a few dozen people, I think. I never counted.” He wondered if he should have. “And there were also all the cases where I drove people psychotic, indirectly killing some, wounding others, and ruining lives of everyone around. I don’t think it compares to killing a single man who won’t be missed by anyone, and who, let’s not beat around the bush, deserves to die like that. In short, yes, by a long shot.”

She didn’t say anything to that. Akechi noticed that the gun, previously held steady, started ever-so-slightly twitching, and then Futaba’s words echoed in his head:

_Killing a person, no matter what they did to me or my friends, will cause me even more trauma!_

Wait, she didn’t say ‘killing’, she said ‘wounding’. The point still stood though, if Haru pulled the trigger, the aftermath of that would’ve stuck with her for a long time. Or not that long, depending on how overwhelming her regret would be and how many bullets were in the magazine. The thought terrified him - he deserved that, she did _not_. Deescalate.

“This appears to be harder on you than it is on me,” he remarked. “I should have noticed that before, but my social skills are… not as up-to-par as I’d like them to be.” He waited for her to speak up, and after she didn’t react, he said, “It isn’t too late to back down.”

“So you can run off to Joker and tell on me?”

“Like he’d believe me.” He probably would have, but he found that more convincing than ‘he wouldn’t hold it against you and neither will I’. “If you do not speak up about this, I won’t either. Turn the safety on, return the gun to where you took it from, and let’s both pretend this never happened.”

And then, silence, again, as both of them understood and regretted the actions that led to this particular situation, but neither of them dared to display that regret, in fear of the other interpreting it as a weak spot to attack. The two of them looked at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time, and then Haru moved her hands apart, allowing the firearm to drop on the floor.

Now, dear reader, consider the following: it has been established that Masayoshi Shido, who was responsible for making sure Akechi gets supplies to clean up his messes, was a reckless man who cared very little about what happened to his assassin. Which begs the question:

Do you think he would have worried about something so beyond his interest as drop safety?

* * *

Akechi’s phone had been plugged into Futaba’s laptop, and the geek was browsing through the photos he had taken earlier. 

“Mwehehe…”

“I like that laugh,” Joker got up and walked up to Futaba. “Whatcha got?”

“Oh, Rootkit did a _wonderful_ job.” She alt-tabbed to the web browser. “I’ve managed to access Shido’s party account and I’m in the middle of downloading bank statements.”

“Where does Akechi’s work come into this?” Makoto asked.

The geek alt-tabbed back to the image viewer. “One of the documents he photographed had the login and password written on the margin.”

“And Shido had that just… noted down?” Morgana tilted his head in disbelief. “It _was_ in a locked drawer, but Akechi just raked it open in five seconds.”

“By the way,” Futaba turned to him, “did you end up using that SSD I gave ya?”

“No, there were no computers in the office.”

“Can I have it back? I’ll upload everything I find to it so Joker can give it to his press contact.”

“Akechi still has it.”

Joker turned to the door. “I’ll go and fetch it.”

Makoto stood up. “I’ll accompany you.”

The two got out of the apartment and marched to the staircase. “You’re worried, aren’t you?” the girl asked.

“Things are going _too_ smoothly for my liking,” the brunette replied as they marched to the ground floor. There weren’t any rooms or flats on it, only a reception desk that had no one behind it - there was a note on it with a phone number to call if someone wanted to check in so late in the evening. The two walked to the front door and looked outside, trying to spot either Akechi or Haru around, to no avail.

“I don’t like this,” Joker muttered, pulling out his phone to call Haru.

And then they heard a muffled bang, coming from below them.


	9. Artistic License: Medicine

Akechi’s fight-or-flight reflexes kicked in and he threw himself to the side before the handgun hit the ground. The fired bullet ended up going through the spot his knee occupied a quarter of a second before and embedding itself in the wall.

Unfortunately, neither he nor Haru were able to dodge 170 decibels of sound emitted by the shot.

The girl let out a small yelp of pain, and realized that she’s unable to hear it. Or anything, really. There was a bang, and then a continuous high-pitched hum in both ears. And pain. Bearable, but noticeable.

She came back to her senses just in time to see an annoyed Akechi picking himself up from the floor, holding the gun in his hand. She took a step backwards, towards the exit, ready to run, but he just pressed a button on the side, causing the magazine to fall out into his open palm. He grabbed both it and the pistol with his left, then pulled the slide back with his right, allowing the chambered bullet to go out through the ejection port into his hand. He put it back in the magazine, put the empty handgun in front of the girl, took a step away from her and gestured at her to pick it up.

As she knelt down, the door was slammed open - not that Akechi and Haru could hear that, they just noticed the movement - and Joker and Makoto burst in, the former wielding a pocket knife and the latter holding her guard up. Both the princess and the detective held their hands high in surrender.

“What is going on here?” the brunette asked, as confused as them.

Akechi very slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a notepad and wrote something in it. He showed it to Haru, who nodded, and then passed it over to the other two.

“ _We can’t hear you,_ ” Joker read out loud, before pulling out his own pen. He wrote something in response, then showed it to Haru specifically. _What is going on here?_

Hesitantly, the girl took his pen and wrote _The gun fired and now our hearing is impaired._

Joker showed her response to Makoto, who wrote, in perfect cursive, _Ah, yes, the gun fired. On its own. You’re safe now, you don’t have to cover up for him,_ then handed the notepad back to the other girl, who didn’t respond to that at first. Then, with a shaky hand, she wrote back:

_He didn’t bring it here. I did._

The brunette and the president stared at the last message for a moment, before Akechi yanked the notebook back and hastily wrote _This was just a misunderstanding. No one is at fault._

 _We’ll have this conversation once you can hear us,_ Joker wrote. _I’ve got a friend with an MD, she’ll come over to look at your ears. You fine with that?_ The casualties nodded, and Joker turned to Makoto, “I’m gonna go and call her, can you three deal with crime scene cleanup?”

* * *

“Well, to sum up,” Tae announced, putting away the otoscope, “I don’t see any permanent damage to both your friends’ ears. If that was a one-time incident, they should recover on their own in a few days.”

“What if we _don’t_ have a few days?” Joker replied. “There might be things that I need to discuss with them right now.”

“Do they have any allergies?”

Makoto wrote the question on a notepad and showed it to Haru and Akechi, sitting on the couch. They shook their heads in response. The doctor pulled out a small glass vial. “I expected you to be in a rush and cooked up an old recipe I never had a chance to test on hurt specimen.”

“Not reassuring,” Makoto muttered.

“They won’t make the situation worse, that much I can guarantee. I could demonstrate if King Hamlet tilts his head.” She gestured at Akechi, who hesitantly did so, and Tae applied a few drops of her medicine down his ear canal. “The effects should kick in in a few minutes.” She turned to Joker. “The problem is, I’ve used some expensive stuff to prepare a batch for you, so if you could cover at least some of it, I’d be grateful.”

The brunette pulled out his wallet, got a few random notes from it, and handed them over to the doctor. She inspected them under the ceiling light in disbelief. “Kid, whatever you're doing for a living, don't stop. A few more months of that, and I’ll be selling meds _over_ the table as well.”

“Not reassuring,” Akechi muttered, then realization flashed on his face. “…my hearing is back in that ear. And the ringing is gone too.”

Tae smiled proudly. “Wow, _much_ faster than I expected.”

“Thank God for that,” Joker remarked as the doctor went ahead to apply the medicine to the other three ears. “You have no idea how much communicating via notepad slows down the plot.”

“I can only guess.” She put the half-full vial on the kitchenette counter. “I’ll leave you the rest, just in case you end up mishandling a firearm again.”

Everyone sans Takemi had their colours drained off of them.

“Y’know, for a bunch of secret vigilantes you’re awful at keeping a poker face.”

“How-how did you…?” Joker stammered.

“It was a shot in the dark.” She chuckled at her own joke. “I mean, I get a panicked call about two people hurt by, quote, a loud bang, and you explicitly say that you call me because it’s something you can’t deal with in a regular hospital. It was a plausible option, and your reactions just confirmed it.”

“And you will _not_ speak about that to anyone,” Akechi growled.

“ _Duh_. Just… watch out next time, alright? I do not know how to treat gunshot wounds and I’d rather not have to learn about that.” She marched to the exit. “Okay, gonna leave you alone. Nightie night!”

And she left. After a moment, Joker and Makoto grabbed a chair each and sat opposite Haru and Akechi. “Alright, what happened in the basement?” he asked, opening a small bottle of carbonated water. 

The detective had had enough time to think about an excuse that wouldn’t incriminate either of them. Haru was concerned about her safety and remembered about the handgun they had stashed… somewhere. She approached him to teach her how to use it, it slipped out of her hand, and fired when hitting the ground. Heck, that was almost true! Nothing happened, we can return to business as usual.

And then Haru said “I tried to kill Akechi” and Joker did a spit take. 

“This is a gross oversimplification,” the detective protested.

“I pointed a gun at your stupid face with intent of firing it!”

“If you actually _wanted_ to kill me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation on account of a 9mm bullet in my brain!” Beat. “Or my left shoulder, since you have no clue how to handle an actual gun.”

“I don’t think proper gun handling is the most important issue at the moment,” Makoto spoke up.

“Of course you don’t, miss Hipfire von Hammerfanner.”

“Alright, two steps back,” Joker raised his hands in exasperation. “We know that Haru brought the gun and she said she wanted to kill Akechi. Why?”

“Because-”

“I want Haru to say it, Akechi.”

The girl looked elsewhere. “Because Futaba’s app showed him spending time in Shido’s office and I thought he betrayed us again.”

“Well, he didn’t, he was watched by Morgana the whole time. And his phone was bugged so we heard their every word.”

“I told her the same thing,” the detective added. “And then she dropped the gun on the ground in surrender and it fired.”

“That’s _not_ what happened!” Haru protested. “I said that I might as well shoot you and claim it was your fault or something!”

“Words, words, words.” Akechi rolled his eyes. “I literally _encouraged you to shoot_ and you didn’t - and that’s what matters in the end.”

“You did WHAT?” Makoto reacted.

“It was a mistake, I underestimated the toll killing takes on other people,” Akechi said, bracing for a punch to the stomach or below.

“Let him be, Makoto. He deescalated the situation in the end,” Haru looked the detective in the eye, “and apparently that’s what matters.” 

“ _Fuck me_ , everyone in this room needs therapy.” Joker rubbed his eyes. “And all I can give you is a hug. You want a hug, Haru?”

“…do I really deserve-”

“Hug, _now_ ,” Makoto and Akechi commanded in unison, and she didn’t argue with that. The next minute or so went in silence, with the brunette embracing the princess, and the detective and the president sitting awkwardly on the side. “I just realized that we didn’t give Futaba that SSD.”

Akechi took the hint. “We’ll go and give it to her.”

The two retreated to the geek’s bedroom. Joker and Haru remained embraced, and then he whispered: 

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” the girl reacted. “Why? What for?”

“I should’ve recognized the red flags.” Their eyes met. “Should have kept you two apart. Shouldn’t have expected you to be understanding of a man that took away your father.”

“It’s not your fault,” she replied. “It’s something I’ll… have to process myself, sooner or later.” She released the brunette. “Preferably now.”

“Sounds ambitious,” Joker nodded. “How do you want to start?”

With a heavy sigh, Haru marched out of the living room, followed by the brunette, and entered Futaba’s bedroom without knocking.

“…but they gave me _supersonic_ ammo, so…” Akechi cut the story he had been telling to Makoto and Morgana short, and the three looked at Haru. “Is there a problem?”

The princess braced herself and looked into the detective’s eyes. “My father was… an evil person.”

“I’m in no position to…” Something clicked in his head. “Oh, sorry, is this the beginning of a monologue?”

“I suppose.”

“No further interruption, then,” he mimicked zipping his mouth up.

“His company… was thoroughly corrupt, ruining lives and health of everyone below him,” she went on. “To make his transition into politics, he was willing to _sell my body_ to an abusive entitled _dick_.” She paused for everyone to gasp in shock. “And yet… in some way, I loved him.”

Akechi averted her gaze, out of shame and guilt.

“Look me in the eyes, Goro,” she commanded, and he obeyed. “My love for him was based on two things - the man he _was_ and the man he _could have been,_ had he lived.”

At this point, the detective was almost sure he preferred being shot over listening to that.

“I’ve noticed you… trying to do the right thing. Both trying to get Shido sunk for good and trying to stop me from doing something… unforgivable. And…” she took a deep breath, “…if I was willing to forgive my father based on a faint sliver of hope that he _might_ be better in the future…” she outstretched her hand, “then I think I can forgive you.”

Now he was _completely_ sure of that. For all the experience he had in faking affability, he had no idea on how to react to a genuine act of forgiveness - it was literally beyond his comprehension. Getting shot in the face was pleasantly straightforward in comparison, and the main downside of it stopped being scary a long time ago.

Instead of taking her hand, he dropped on his knees and lowered his head in submission.

“Alright, the data’s being copied…” Futaba spun on her chair and noticed all the other people in her room. “…did I miss something?”

“I’ll fill you in later,” Joker pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. “Jeez, it’s late.” He turned to Haru. “Do you want to spend the night here or should we call a cab?”

“I have a car, remember?” Makoto piped up. “I can give her a lift back home.”

“Good. Put the gun back in the hiding spot on your way there, okay?” The president nodded. “Now that everyone’s listening…” He took a breath. “You are not alone, people. None of you are. If there’s anything, _anything_ that weighs you down, hit me up. Hit _anyone_ up. I don’t judge, and I don't bite.” He glanced down. “That applies to _everyone,_ Akechi.”

“I don’t deserve…” he whispered.

“We had that conversation before, Rootkit!” She glanced at the cat. “Morgana, attack!”

“Do I have to? He still has that tuna he had bought me before.”


	10. Vision Quest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: brief nonchalant reference to what happened in the interrogation room; I’m not sure if it even warrants a content warning but I’d rather err on the side of caution.
> 
> I tried to co-credit wr3h for this chapter, since his help made a lot of things click into place, but apparently that just makes him the co-author of the whole story. 10/10

Ichiko Ohya dialled a number on her phone. “Hey, hey, hey,” she greeted Joker, “I got your message about a nice big scoop for me.”

“Ichiko, it’s two in the morning,” he muttered, lying in his bed.

“Sorry, my phone died, I just came back home and plugged it in. So, what’s that scoop?”

“Assorted dirt on Masayoshi Shido.” Joker sat up. “A… pissed former employee brought me some documents from his office. A computer-literate teammate noticed some passwords on the margins and got some extra stuff to sweeten the pot. All put on a nice little drive and wrapped in a cute bow.”

“Does that mean your usual magic didn’t work?” the journalist asked.

“I’m almost sure it _did,_ but it might not be enough this time,” he sighed. “I’m holed up in a hotel in Ōta, can you drop in tomorrow slash today morning? I can’t really go anywhere during normal school hours, so I’m flexible.”

“‘Kay. Text me the address, I’ll drop in first thing in the morning.”

“Sure. Now, goodnight.” Joker hung up. He was about to lie back down when he heard the front door lock beep. Promptly and silently, he got up and peeked through the cracked bedroom door. Noticing who was on the other side, he opened it widely. “Akechi! What were you doing outside at night?”

“I couldn’t fall asleep, so I went on a walk,” the detective responded, taking off the sports bag. “I had Morgana with me, he can confirm I didn’t do anything fishy.”

“Well…” the cat said, “it wasn’t fishy per se, but he stopped by a pharmacy and got some sleeping pills.”

The detective showed him the pill bottle. “Normal over-the-counter stuff.”

“Trouble falling asleep, huh?”

Akechi sighed. “I have… thoughts.”

“Yeah, that sounds ominous.”

“Especially with a bottle of pills in your hands,” Morgana added.

“No, not _suicidal_ thoughts,” Akechi responded, inspecting the label. “I just… can’t name them, really. Do you think I had someone try to talk me through my feelings at any point in my life?”

“It’s guilt, isn’t it?”

“I guess?” he shrugged. “I mean, it is there, it will stay there until the end, but… there’s more to it, I think.” His hand twitched. “And I think and _I keep thinking and I want to stop._ ”

Joker took the pill bottle from him. “Yeah, you’re getting that rationed.” He got out two pills from it and handed them over to the detective who swallowed them without washing them down. 

“What are you going to do with me when this is all over? When Shido's party will be stopped, one way or another?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet. Maybe you’ll stay with us so we can watch you. Maybe we’ll talk with Sae about a plea bargain or something. Or maybe the Metaverse will collapse in the meantime and we won’t have to worry. We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

“All of those sound either unlikely or complex and resource-intensive.”

“As opposed to _what,_ Akechi? Turning you over to authorities is out of the question, because I’m certain you won’t get a fair trial.” 

In lieu of a response, the detective put an index and middle finger to his forehead and mimicked a gun recoiling.

Joker pinched the bridge of his nose. “Like… even if we put aside the morality of taking someone’s life, we aren’t the Phantom Judges, Jurors and Executioners. None of us are killers, even though some have tried to pretend otherwise.”

“Well, other than you…” Morgana muttered under his breath.

“So, at the end of the day, after everything I’ve done, you’ll let me walk away without punishment.” Akechi said.

“Your guilt keeping you awake will have to suffice.” 

“What kind of justice is that?”

Joker stared him down. “One concerned with righting the wrongs over shooting the bad guys in the face. I can’t bring back Kunikazu, Wakaba, or all the other people you killed, but I can make both you and people pulling your strings _atone_ for what you did.”

“Can you?” Akechi tried to out-stare him. “Furthermore, can you guarantee that I won’t pull off any more stuff like that that the moment you stop following my every step?”

“We’re on day five of us living in a single flat, and other than some snippy remarks at people, you’re cooperative. At this point, I’m not worried that you’ll go on a killing spree, I’m worried that I’ll enter your bedroom and find you hanged on your shoelaces.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before the door to Futaba’s bedroom opened and the geek poked her head out. “Just _fuck_ already!”

After a beat, Joker shrugged. “I mean, if it clears the air-”

“Goodnight, everyone.” Akechi spun on his heel and marched to his bedroom in a huff, slamming the door behind himself.

The brunette turned to the geek. “Did we wake you up?”

“Nope dot avi. I was working on some new stuff for the chat app, heard you arguing about something, and thought saying something inappropriate will give your loop a break.”

“You did good,” Morgana muttered, as Joker patted her on the head.

* * *

Akechi was lying on his bed, eyes closed, trying to clear his mind. It wasn’t going well, because of all the sounds upsetting him.

Cars on the street.

Keyboard clicking in the room next to him.

And Joker’s voice: “You can name those thoughts and we both know it.”

“Get out of my ro… room…” he trailed off, noticing that he wasn’t in his room anymore.

He was on an underground train platform. It wasn’t particularly spacious, and for whatever reason had only one track by it. There didn’t seem to be any exits from it, and when he attempted to peek into the train tunnels on either end, he found out that there’s an invisible wall keeping him on the platform.

“It’s okay, they had it coming.”

He twitched, startled. He spun around, trying to find the source of the voice. 

“It’s not like anyone will miss those people.”

He looked up and noticed a speaker hanging above him.

“And besides, they’ll hang me for that anyway, so it’ll be fair in the end.”

Despite the distortion, he recognized the voice as his own. “So this is Hell, huh?” he muttered.

“Oh, you _wish_.”

He recoiled, startled, as a boy roughly his age was suddenly standing next to him. He looked remarkably like Joker - Shujin school uniform, ruffled hair, glasses, smug smirk on his face. The only difference was that, for whatever reason, everything black about him had a noticeable red tint.

“What’s all this?” the detective asked. 

“It’s all in your head,” the brunette’s (the redhead’s?) grin got wider. “And who else could play the part of that annoying voice in the back of it?” He shook Akechi’s hand. “I’m Dream Joker. C’mon, take a look around.”

What was there to look at though, Akechi thought. It was a _subway station_ , he knew how these looked like, Tokyo had almost three hundred of those. There were a few seats for passengers, some adorably retro split-flap displays, a transit map hanging on the wall…

He paused. Tokyo subway system wasn’t so _linear_. And it had more than seven transit stations.

Looking from left to right, there was a single red line, joined by two others, and then a third. The four lines ran concurrently to a station labelled _Castle of Lust_. Then, the four were joined by a fifth and reached _Museum of Vanity_. Sixth line before _Bank of Gluttony_. Seventh starting from _Pyramid of Wrath_. Eighth joining before _Spaceport of Greed_. And ninth, dark gray, before _Casino of Envy_. The red and dark gray lines split away from the rest and crossed over on a small station labelled _Interrogation Room_. The red line returned to the bundle, and the dark gray line ran in parallel before crossing the rest in a station labelled _Cruiser of Pride Engine Room_. It appeared to have terminated there, but someone had extended it with a marker, so that it bypassed the _Cruiser of Pride_ station and connected with three other lines in _Otorii_.

“I love the subtle symbolism,” Akechi muttered.

“You noticed how all the lines end dashed, for all the stuff in the future?” Dream Joker tapped the rightmost part of the plan. “Well, almost all of them.”

“Are we going to hammer the obvious point some more, or are you going to tell me something I don’t know?”

He looked at him. “I have to lay things out thick, so that you’re unable to drown ‘em out. ‘Cause that’s something you’ve been doing for the past two and a half years - drowning out that voice in the back of your head that tells you that you’re doing stupid things. And you know where that leads to?”

A door appeared on the wall and creaked open. Akechi peeked inside and found himself staring into the interrogation room, with Joker’s red-tinted corpse lying on the table in the pool of his own blood.

“…I get shot in the face and someone fakes my suicide?”

“Swing and a miss.” The brunette picked himself up and wiped the blood off his forehead and face. “What I meant is, you end up doing and saying things you regret later. You burn bridges you shouldn’t have.” He stepped out of the room back on the platform and the door closed and disappeared behind him. “And not everyone has _the patience of a saint and limitless capacity to forgive_ like I do.”

Akechi rolled his eyes. “Of course, Mr Discount Shoulder Angel. If only it wasn’t two dead parents and countless other victims too late for me to apply that knowledge.”

“As always, you’re incorrect.”

One of the split flap displays had activated with a reassuring rustle, prompting the two to approach it. The main part was able to display three rows of text, letter by letter. Below that was a smaller row, with a single flap going through a series of words Akechi recognized as Major Arcana. To the left, there was a larger flap showing pictures going by too fast for him to identify. On the right, there was an analog meter of some sort, with no unit given, and the scale going from 0 to 10.

The Arcana part stopped on _Justice_ , and the picture flap displayed a logo he had seen somewhere before. After a moment, the main part finished setting itself to _PHANTOM / THIEVES / OF HEARTS_ , and the meter set itself to 3.

Akechi noticed a knob sticking out the side of the contraption and attempted to turn it. The picture flap flipped, displaying a black-and-white drawing of a familiar bespectacled brunette. The Arcana flap changed to _The Fool_. The top and bottom row started cycling through the first few letters, while the middle row stabilized: _????? / JOKER / ???????_. The meter went up to 8.

“That’s an interesting one.” Dream Joker grinned. “I have a theory that this little doodad is showing how deep your bond is with a person or a group. I mean, there had to be a reason why I’m not,” his voice switched to Futaba’s, “a neon-orange-haired hikikomori. But eight on a ten-point scale?” he went back to Joker’s voice. “That’s basically an admission you want to jump his bones. Should I take my shirt off?”

“Ew!” Akechi recoiled in disgust before collecting himself. “I mean, I’m not interested. In _anyone_. I have hang-ups. You should know that if you’re the voice in my head.”

“I like messing with you.”

“Anyway,” he took a deep breath, “the thing with Joker is… I’m jealous of him.” He started pacing around. “I’m jealous of how he’s so effortlessly smart and powerful and stays on the moral high ground and just rubs his superiority in my face all the time.” A breath to calm himself down. “But… I guess, on some level, I respect him for that. And… he keeps his principles even when dropping them for just a moment would cause him less pain and worries. And he’s concerned about me _,_ despite everything I’ve done to him he’s _actually concerned about me_ after I… I…”

“Have you ever told him that?” Dream Joker interrupted him. “Not a copy in your head, him specifically?”

“Would he even believe me?” Pause. “Oh, of course he would, what am I even saying?”

“I wonder what's the significance of his name not being shown.”

“Maybe it reflects about how he thinks of himself as Joker first and his civilian identity second.”

Or maybe the author thought not using his canon name was a good idea two months and eight chapters ago.

Akechi looked around. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Dream Joker replied. “Let’s see who else the magic relationship box will show.”

The detective turned the knob, and the display switched to _RYUJI / SKULL / SAKAMOTO_. The meter showed a 2, ditto for Morgana. Ann and Yusuke each had a 1. Makoto had a 3, Futaba had a 4, Haru had a 3. Akechi turned the knob again, expecting things to wrap back to the Phantom Thieves as a group, and found himself staring dumbfounded at a picture of his own face.

The first and third rows finished setting themselves, but the second remained in motion, displaying _GORO / ?????????? / AKECHI_. The meter on the side kept wildly swinging its pointer around.

“Before you ask,” Dream Joker piped up, “I don’t get the meaning of this either.”

The Arcana flap stopped on _The Tower_. “Okay, feel free to hammer in the symbolism now,” Akechi said. “My knowledge of Tarot reading begins and ends with ‘Death means change and not literal death’.”

The brunette rubbed his chin. “The Tower also implies change, but carries connotations of destruction, danger, and other fun stuff like that. Reversed could mean negligence, carelessness, apathy.”

“It checks out.”

“Note that it doesn’t have to be a change for the worse,” he added. “To use a completely random example: a change from a shrieking sentai villain into a nonchalant yet loyal ally would definitely be a positive one.” Ignoring a pointed stare from the detective, he went on, “Tell me something, ‘cause I’m curious: were all the slasher smiles, screams and shit-talking who you really were underneath the affability, or was that just another mask hiding what we see now?”

“I have no idea,” he replied. “If that was a real part of me, it died in Shido’s Palace and shall not be missed.”

As if on cue, a different display has activated elsewhere on the platform, attracting their attention. It consisted of two identical modules stacked on top of each other. Most of the module was taken by a display labelled _Persona Name._ Next to it, a mechanical seven-segment display labelled _Lvl,_ showing 75 on the first module and 70 for the second _._ A small light-up button labelled _Equip_ , lit up for Robin Hood but not for Loki. And a large red button under a cover, labelled _REMOVE PERSONA._

Akechi and Dream Joker walked up to it. “Well, isn’t that…” he trailed off, as the detective, without missing a beat, lifted the cover and pressed the button to delete Loki. Then pressed it again, repeatedly.

“I _said_ it died in Shido’s Palace and _shall not be missed!_ ”

The flaps clicked, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Then, they burst out of the machine and spilled on the floor, but at a point where they should’ve hit the ground, they dissolved into nothingness, and so did the floor underneath them, revealing the void underneath. The dissolution started rapidly spreading on the floor and walls, and the two stepped away, but soon found themselves backed up against a wall with nowhere to run.

“What will happen now?” Akechi asked, slightly unnerved.

“Hell if I know,” Dream Joker shrugged. “I’ll probably disappear alongside this place.”

“And what about me?”

“You’ll just wake up.”

Akechi’s eyes opened and he sat up on his bed. He was in a bedroom in a rented apartment in Ōta, but the details of the dream subway station remained crystal clear in his mind. He thought that sleeping pills were either a splendid idea or a terrible one and attempted to lie back down, before he picked up someone’s footsteps on the corridor. Promptly and silently, he got up and peeked through the cracked bedroom door. Noticing who was on the other side, he opened it widely. “Joker! Where are you going?”

“I had a nightmare and I want to walk it off,” he said, weary. “Please don’t murder my sister and cat while I’m out.”

“Wait a moment, please.” The detective walked up to him and put his hand on the shoulder. “I…” he froze up for a moment, “I will not commit suicide because it would make you distraught and you don’t deserve that?” Joker looked at him confused. “It sounded better in my head.”

The brunette smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“And…” the detective went on, “I feel like I need to say something more.”

Joker turned to him. “Go on. I’m listening.”

“I… really shouldn’t get credit for turning back to the Phantom Thieves. After all, what other options did I really have? Well, other than…” he mimicked shooting himself in the temple. “But… if it’s possible… I want more. I want to… be more… than a rival… than an enemy on your side by necessity…” Realization flashed on his face. “Oh _bugger me_ , this sounds more… romance-y than I intended.”

Joker chuckled. “Don’t worry, I get what you mean. If I can suggest a bonding activity: we could experiment in the kitchen.” Noticing Akechi’s uneasy expression, he added. “Uh, as in, try a recipe other than curry and pancakes. I’m gonna stop by whatever store’s open to buy something interesting-looking, okay?”

The detective smiled. “Yeah, sure. Stay safe.”

“I will.”

And with that, Joker left the flat. Akechi spun on his heel, ready to go back to sleep, and noticed Futaba peeking from her bedroom in silence.

“Um, is something wrong? Have I-”

She pointed at the floor. “Kneel.”

Confused, he obeyed. The geek marched out of her room and patted him on his head. 

“You did good,” she said. “And my mom used to pat me on the-” she noticed him stiffen up, “Have I done something wrong?”

“No, no, no,” he got up and tried to regain composure. “I… I really appreciate the gesture. It means a lot coming from you. Can I… can I pat you back?”

The geek hesitantly nodded. Akechi’s head pat was awkward, but gentle. “Okay, I’m gonna go back to coding. Nightie-night!” she smiled and returned back to her room, leaving the detective alone with his thoughts, again.

He didn’t have any more dreams that night, or at the very least couldn’t remember any. There was, however, a line he couldn’t get out of his head.

“You noticed how the _actual_ me is much less smug and annoying?”


	11. One-Note Cook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got one of my co-credited betas to draw a proper cover art for this thing - link in the summary. Let's all politely ignore how Akechi wasn't wearing a shirt and tie in that scene :P
> 
> If you're curious about the original cover, it's still on BV's dA: [[link]](http://fav.me/de09drz)

Ichiko slept late that day, and ended up arriving at the hotel just before noon. She knocked on the door, and after a few seconds, her phone rang. She picked up the call. “Yup, that’s me. Open the door.” Joker did so, and the first thing she registered when entering was a thick smell of smoke. “Did you burn something here?”

“Don’t ask,” the brunette replied, before turning to Futaba. “What are the total damages?”

“Well, the frying pan’s unburned, so both you and Rootkit can do the factory default.”

“So, we’re not using real names?” the journalist said to Joker. “Fair enough, Leader, how should I call the little gremlin?

“Oracle,” she smiled. “And Rootkit is Crow.”

“Will I get to meet Rootcrow or are they shy?”

Joker looked to the side. “He’s getting changed. And, well, I need you to promise his identity stays secret.”

She cracked a smile. “As opposed to literally everything else about this?”

“Fair point.” The brunette knocked on one of the bedroom doors. “My friend in the press is here, come say hi.” After a pause, the detective walked into the corridor. “Shirt and tie?” Joker noticed.

“If I can’t wear it outside, I’ll wear it inside.” He looked at the journalist and put on a faint smile. “Greetings, I’m Cr-”

“Wait,” Ichiko said, dumbfounded, “Crowkit is _Goro Fucking Akechi_?” 

“So, we’re using names now?” Futaba piped in.

“Well, yes,” Joker said to the journalist. “My dear friend Akechi was trying to take Shido down in his own way,” he explained, almost truthfully, “but it proved to be ineffective and only got him in more trouble. So, he joined us.”

“Well, I’m _adjacent_ to the group,” the detective elaborated. “I’m not a ‘real’ Phantom Thief.”

“We can talk semantics later. Can I see the goods now?”

Futaba gestured at the door to her bedroom. “Follow me.”

The group entered it and the geek opened her laptop, logged in, and navigated to /media/alibaba/dirt_on_shido. “Feast your eyes on this,” she moved herself out of the way and the journalist started skimming the documents and photos. 

“Hm…” she scrolled, “frivolous lawsuits, absurdly cheap services, donations from family members of important people...”

“You’ve been looking at those things for fifteen seconds,” Akechi remarked.

“I’ve been doing my own investigation,” the journalist explained, “and I can tell at a glance that these confirm and prove a lot of hunches and hearsay I had stumbled upon. And, unlike witnesses, the paper trail can’t be ‘convinced’ to forget they ever mentioned anything or found dead after a mental shutdown.”

Akechi glanced aside.

“That reminds me,” she turned to the group, “once you start digging, you notice how most if not all of those incidents benefitted either Shido or people in his inner circles. Do you know anything about that?”

“You don’t have to worry about that happening to you, miss!” Futaba reassured.

“That’s an evasive answer, Barbara Gordon.”

“Well, we had stumbled upon the guy that was causing the shutdowns at Shido’s orders, and we changed his heart so he's not a threat anymore,” Joker piped in. “We didn't turn him over to authorities though, ‘cause he would've just ended up ’committing suicide’ in police custody and blamed for everything.”

“And the Thieves are very adamantly against killing people,” the detective added. “Or leaving them to die.”

Ohya noticed the wording, but didn’t comment on that. “Sounds a bit _sketchy_ to me, but I trust the Thieves more than I trust the cops nowadays. And you gave me enough tangible evidence to get the article published.”

“Do you think it’ll be enough to sink the bastard?” the brunette asked.

“Well, it will put a _massive_ dent in his ‘man of the people’ image,” the journalist replied. “I think it should be enough.” She unplugged the SSD and put it in her pocket. “I’ll get to writing immediately, should have the article published early next week.”

“Wait, what day is it?”

“Saturday, the 10th. I’ll get the article done before the elections.”

Joker shook her hand. “Thanks, Ichiko.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” she smiled, then walked towards the door. “If any of you want to give me an interview after this is all over, Head Honcho has my digits. See ya.” She left the room, then the flat, and stumbled upon Morgana returning from somewhere. “Ooh, the cat from the bag!” She crouched to pet him, and then went on her merry way, as the cat entered the apartment.

“Sojiro’s up to date with our stuff, minus the Haru incident,” he announced to the three. “Nothing eventful happened on his side.”

“Great,” the brunette smiled. “All three of you did a fantastic job. Headpats, tuna and… whatever Akechi likes for everyone. C’mon, ace detective, why ain’t you smiling?”

He sighed. “The usual. Yadda yadda my fault to begin with blah blah killed parents and you yadda don’t deserve second chances. This is the part where Morgana bites meOW!”

“Pluh twuhst!” Futaba said, biting down hard on his hand.

“It's _wonderful_ to see you get out of your shell.” He shook her off. “Wait... it actually _is_ , I’m glad I didn’t irreversibly break at least _one_ good thing on this earth.” She smiled, and he patted her on the head.

“So, I assume Ohya’ll work on publishing what we had gathered.” Morgana asked. “What do we do in the meantime?”

“I’m sure some side plot will fall into our la-” Joker was interrupted by a notification on his phone. “Ooh, a message from Chihaya.”

“Who?”

“A friend of mine that got the entry card data for us. There’s a video...” 

The group gathered around the brunette and watched a minute or so of a forty-something guy in a suit verbally tearing down some of his colleagues in the cafe, shot from under a table. He then moved on to scold a barista for some slight that might or might not have actually happened. His accent wasn’t Japanese, but they couldn’t really pinpoint his nationality.

“Looks like a fun guy,” the cat murmured.

Another message arrived: _I couldn’t note down his name, but someone had given me his business card - it’s Krzysztof Truszczynski._

Joker glanced at Morgana. “Do we need to learn how to pronounce that?”

“Writing should be enough.”

“I’m gonna call a meeting for today then,” Joker opened the PT chat app and typed up a message for everyone. “A nice relaxing trip to Mementos to blow off some steam sounds like something all of us could use right now.” His phone buzzed. “Ryuji asks if there’ll be pancakes again.”

“We have a single non-damaged frying pan, correct? I’ll see what I can do.” 

“By the way,” the brunette turned to Futaba, “could you find a household goods store nearby? I’ll go out in the afternoon to get some replacements.”

* * *

The non-Ōta-bound Thieves ended up bumping into Joker and Morgana on the train to Otorii. He was carrying a large plastic bag of assorted kitchen utensils.

“What’s with the kitchen-on-the-go?” Ryuji asked.

“A misunderstanding over the meaning of ‘pansexual’,” the brunette snickered at his own joke. “Seriously though, don’t let me and Crow cook new stuff unsupervised ever again.”

“And speaking of the devil,” Ann piped up, “what happened yesterday? I got Makoto and Haru’s versions, and I want to hear yours.”

“First of all, I dunno what Haru told you, but she’s too hard on herself. Second…” he paused and lowered his head, “it’s my fault, in a way. I should’ve ran the operation past the whole group before doing anything.”

“Eh.” Makoto shrugged. “You didn’t _hide_ it when asked, and you worked on keeping things secure while giving Crow room to breathe. You did alright.”

“I know, pot and kettle,” Ryuji spoke up, “but maybe we should discuss that after we get off?”

“Fair point.” After a pause, Joker looked at Haru, staring at her shoes. “You feeling alright?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Better than yesterday, that’s for sure. I stared into the abyss, and it didn’t stare back at me yet.”

“Group hug, everyone!” Joker ordered and until the train reached Otorii, Haru had found herself smothered by five teenagers and a cat. They would’ve kept hugging her longer, but it would’ve made leaving the train somewhat cumbersome.

After getting off, they promptly marched to the hotel. When on the staircase, the brunette turned to the group and asked “Do you think I’m too soft on Crow?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Kunikazu and Wakaba and _everything else_ aside, he _did_ attack all of us in the engine room.”

“Eh, like he had a chance,” Ryuji waved him off. “That was more of a suicide-by-Thieves attempt.”

“And truth be told, it didn’t stand out _that_ much when compared to the rest of the Palace.” Yusuke added, quietly. “To him, it was a defiant last stand to vanquish us or be vanquished, but to the Phantom Thieves, it was Monday.”

With nobody disagreeing with that assessment, Joker went on, “Still, while we all agree that leaving him to die would be wrong, maybe I should be a bit… harsher?”

“Woooow, great idea!“ the athlete said, in a tone even the most asocial people would recognize as sarcasm. “We should give him all kinds of shit just for existing! Let’s not give him the time of day even when he does something right and beat him up even after he saves everyone’s life by running up a slope with a hurt leg!”

Ann glanced at him. “Are you still-”

“YES I AM STILL BITTER ABOUT IT!”

“Will some pancakes make ya feel better?”

The group glanced up and noticed Futaba standing at the top of the stairs.

“How did you-”

“Joker’s phone is tracked, remember?” she grinned. “C’mon, Rootkit’s waiting with a nice stack.”

The group followed the geek into the flat. “Rootkit?” Ann asked.

“Akechi,” the brunette explained. “She called him like that once as an insult, and it just kinda stuck.”

“Greetings,” the detective waved half-heartedly. “I hope you’ll enjoy the meal.”

The Thieves sat around the table. A plate with a large stack of pancakes was placed in the middle of it, surrounded by a few sweet and savoury filling options. “So,” Ryuji promptly rolled up one pancake and shoved it in his mouth, “whoov thuh targuh?”

Morgana dragged a pancake onto a separate plate, and put some tuna on it. “A foreign middle-manager being a jerk to both his coworkers and other people. Joker has his full name and video proof.”

The brunette pulled out his phone and replayed the video, showing it to everyone around the table.

“What a pleasant individual,” Makoto muttered.

Yusuke glanced “I do not see anyone opposing the ope...” he stopped, his gaze stuck on Akechi. “Everyone, put down the pancakes, _now_.”

“Whuh?” Ryuji swallowed.

The artist got up, marched to the detective and grabbed him by the collar. “What have you put in them?” he asked, firmly yet politely.

“...flour, eggs and milk?” Akechi replied, not scared, just confused. “I didn’t measure anything because we lost the measuring cup in a fire this morn-”

“ _You know what I mean!_ ”

“Yusuke, explain yourself,” Joker calmly finished his portion.

The artist turned to the brunette. “If he didn’t tamper with the batter, then what was the _grin_ about?”

“I don’t know, he was _happy_ that we like his pancakes?” he said, getting another one from the stack. “They’re delicious, by the way. There’s a fine line between cautiousness and paranoia, and you _leaped over it_ , Yusuke. Say sorry, now.”

“I was supervised one way or another ever since you dragged me out of the engine room, Kitagawa,” Akechi added. “And you have searched all my belongings at least once. How could I get my hands on any kind of poison without anyone noticing?”

After a pause, Yusuke released Akechi. “You two are right. My apologies.” Pause. “I would feel a bit calmer if you joined the meal, though.”

The detective rolled his eyes and rolled up a pancake with strawberry jam. Barely stopping himself from pointing out how little this proves, what with his blatant disregard for his life, he ate it. “Yum,” he said, in the most blase tone he could muster. “If someone wants to wash it down, there’s Flavor Aid in the refrigerator. I’m going to get changed, assuming you want me to assist you in Mementos.”

“We do, don’t we?” Joker scanned the group. Nobody protested. “Good. Ask Futaba to install you the chat a...” he trailed off. “Wait a second, where’s Futaba? And Haru?”

* * *

A few minutes earlier, Haru found herself pushed towards Futaba’s bedroom - well, _gently nudged,_ the geek wasn’t really capable of pushing anything heavier than a Git commit. 

“I need to show you something,” she muttered, closing the door behind herself. “Something Rootkit was working on earlier today.”

She pointed at her desk, at a palm-sized notepad lying on it. Haru picked it up. “Isn’t this a violation of Goro’s privacy?”

“It’s 20XX, privacy doesn’t exist anymore,” Futaba shrugged. “Read it.”

Hesitantly, the princess picked up the note and flipped through the pages. The handwriting was smudged, but had a certain flourish to it. Most of it was crossed out with a neat horizontal line, the rest was thoroughly crossed out with multiple askew ones. Sentence fragments, sometimes single words, on the topic of forgiveness, undeserving, willingness to go the extra mile, and other concepts. One or two dark jokes, crossed out much more thoroughly than everything around them.

“What am I looking at?” Haru asked.

“It looks like a draft for an apology speech,” Futaba replied. “He tried talking to Joker off-the-cuff last night and what came out was a _proposal_.” Pause. “I wouldn’t have shown it to you, but it’s something he wouldn’t admit otherwise. He works fine with mockery and insults, but _compassion,_ input or output, will have him throw uncaught exceptions.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I dunno,” she admitted, honest as ever. “I thought I should point out how... _irritatingly_ human Rootkit is.”

The door was swung open, startling the girls. “There you are!” Joker announced. “C’mon, why aren’t you with the rest of the group?”

“And why are you holding my notepad?” Akechi growled from behind him.

“No reason and no reason,” Futaba replied to both. “Are there any pancakes left?”

“Yes, though only bitter-almond-flavoured ones.”

The geek raised an eyebrow. “But you didn’t use almonds.”

“The taste of bitter almonds is associated with cyanide,” Haru explained. “It’s a poison joke. By the way,” she turned to the detective, “could we talk in private?”

“Are you going to try and shoot me again?” he cracked a smile. 

“Yup!” Haru ‘shot’ him with a finger gun. “And turn your corpse into compost!”

The detective giggled. “Come on, do you really want to inflict that on your poor plants?”

Joker found himself slightly weirded out, but hey, if murder fantasies made them get along, he was willing to accept that. “Okay, Akechi, give your phone to Futaba, she’ll install the PT chat app.” The two left the princess and the detective alone, and the smiles on their faces disappeared the exact moment the door closed.

“She’s on your side, for some inexplicable reason,” Haru said.

“And I am on hers, I think,” Akechi replied. “Well, as much as I can be, considering… well…”

Awkward silence followed, finally broken by the princess: “I didn’t apologize for what happened in the basement yesterday.”

“There’s no need,” he said. “Your regret and willingness to make up for the situation are obvious enough without it.” More awkward silence. “And, well, appreciated, I suppose. Take it from an actual villain: you’re a good person and never dare to think otherwise.”

“So, we’re... teammates now, huh?”

“I cannot wrap my head around that either.”

Yet another awkward pause. “You know those choreographed attacks the Thieves do in pairs?” Haru put her hand behind her head. “I had an idea for such an attack, but… it might hit a bit close to home for you.”

Akechi put his hand to his chin. “I’m intrigued.”

* * *

Elsewhere in Tokyo, a suited-up goon put away his phone. “Finally got ahold of his landlord. He cancelled his rent agreement on the 3rd. Left everything behind.”

“Whoa,” his colleague reacted with mock shock. “Are you suggesting he ran off? This cannot be! It’s almost as we could’ve figured that out when the guy he claimed he shot _turned up alive on every TV in the fucking country!_ ”

“I preferred to err on the side of caution there.”

“Why are we even looking for him?” the third goon asked. 

“Because with Shido out of the picture, there’s a power vacuum to fill. And whoever gets his enforcer will be a natural fit for the top spot.”

“You’re saying this like it’s doable.”

“Because it is.” He grinned. “We can reasonably assume that he’s working with the Phantom Thieves of Hearts now. And getting _them_ to cooperate won’t be difficult. We just need to get the one guy they will not be able to dismiss as collateral.” He let out a low, sinister chuckle.

“...um, who?” the third goon asked.

The leader rolled his eyes. “The leader’s legal guardian, you twit. The barista from that cafe in Yongen.”


	12. Gratuitous Foreign Language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter contains, well, gratuitous foreign language. Hover the mouse over the sentence to get its English translation. 
> 
> If you can't do that for whatever reason, I've posted a translation-convention version on my deviantArt: [[link]](https://www.deviantart.com/bvader95/art/Zwrotnica-Ch-12-Translation-Convention-Edition-861114021)

The Thieves had just entered Mementos. “Alright, Mona,” Joker turned to the cat, “can you sense the target of the day?”

He focused for a moment. “Let me just… yep. Loud and clear, as usual.”

“Okay, forward team is me-”

“Before we begin,” Akechi spoke up, “I need to… check something.”

“What?”

“If I… well, if I still have Loki available. I had a dream… I was on a subway station and-and there was a panel on a wall and a button to delete Loki, and I pressed it, and then the dream ended.” Pause. “Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?”

“Nah, not at all. I’ve had weird Metaverse-related dreams before.”

“So, can I check if he’s still available? You know, just... switch for a moment and then back to this,” he pointed at his beaked mask. 

Joker turned to the group. “Does anyone have something against that?”

“‘Having nothing against that’ isn’t enough,” the detective butted in. “I want explicit permission from _everyone_.”

“He said, staring at two people in particular.” Do you want to take over narrating if you’re so good at it, Futaba? “I’m fine, and you?”

“Ditto,” Haru said. 

“Hey, what’s the worst thing that could happen?” Ryuji asked.

Akechi sighed. “I have no clue, and that’s what terrifies me.”

“We’ve subdued you once, we can do it again.”

The detective looked at Yusuke. “That sentence had no right to sound as reassuring as it did.” He closed his eyes. “Alright, let’s rip off the band-aid…”

He focused, the same way he had done a dozen or so times before, and braced himself for pain. After a moment or so of nothing happening, he opened one eye, unsure. “I cannot-”

Suddenly, the Black Mask costume wrapped around him like a snare. Taken aback, he lost his balance and tumbled backwards. A thin figure in dazzle camouflage materialized in front of him, as the rest of the Thieves watched, unsure of how to react.

 **You have** ** _finally_** **outgrown me, huh?** he said, in a voice not unlike the detective’s. **It is understandable to leave the past behind, but some things, some** ** _feelings_** **,** **are worth preserving. That is all. Good luck.**

He disappeared into thin air, and Akechi’s costume reverted to the toy soldier uniform.

“ _Of course_ he didn’t say anything useful,” Joker helped the detective get up.

“What did just happen?” The detective turned to the cat. “You’re the guy that knows how this all works, _what the heck was that_?”

Morgana looked aside, “Yeah, I have no clue how Wild Cards’ Personas operate, sorry.”

”I had something like that happen to me” the brunette butted in. “My original Persona, Arson-”

“Arsène?”

“Yes, thanks, Noir. He appeared when I was escaping Sae’s Palace and said I’m in danger. Like, _duh_ , if things go wrong I get suicided!” Akechi looked elsewhere. “No offense. Do you wanna be in the forward team today? I'm curious how you'll perform after everything that happened so far.”

“If you can find two more people willing to cooperate with me, sure.”

“Ooh, me!” Ryuji waved his hand.

“Allow me to volunteer as well,” Yusuke stepped forward.

“Aren’t you scared that I’ll poison the field rations?” the detective snarked.

“Of course not, Joker is in charge of that. I merely wish to show I bear no ill will.” the artist replied. 

“Wow,” the detective was taken aback. “I… appreciate that, I guess. I’m ready when you are.”

The group marched downstairs and boarded the Morganacar. The next few minutes went on in complete silence before Joker spoke up: “Why is everyone so quiet again? C'mon, talk about what happened at school, make engine noises, anything!”

“I feel we need to talk about what just happened to Crow,” Makoto said.

“VROOM! VROOOM!” went the detective.

“Why are you avoiding the topic?” Haru spoke up. “I mean, you have released a Persona that represented your irrational hatred. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Does that- does that prove anything though?” Akechi muttered. “I-I don’t feel like a better person. And besides, Joker juggles his Personas all the time and it doesn’t mean jack.”

“I never thought about them as an ‘another’ me,” the other Wild Card weighed in. “Just… me. A part of me that I want to put on display at the moment.”

“What part of you is Mara supposed to represent then?” whoever you’re shipping with Joker asked.

“I’ll leave that to your imagination,” the brunette smirked. The Morganacar rolled through a passage to a separate chunk of Mementos and parked in front of the confused Shadow in a dark-gray suit.

“Co do kurwy...” he said, as the team got off the car, which then turned offscreen into a vaguely cat-shaped thing.

“Welcome, mister!” Joker adjusted his mask, cocky. “How do you find our lovely country?”

“Fucking irritating,” he spat. 

“You know,” Ryuji spoke up, “if you don’t like it, you can always go back to Russia or wherever.”

Judging by the Shadow’s expression, it was precisely the _wrong_ thing to say. “To Ru- I’m not fucking Russian! I’m from Poland!” A sabre materialized in his hand. “ _Zapierdolę was jak psy!_ ” He charged towards the forward team and took a wild swing at Joker. The brunette had no problem dodging the attack.

“Alright, gentlemen,” the leader adjusted his gloves, “the usual procedure. Poke around for elemental weaknesses.”

“Ziodyne!” Ryuji screamed. The attack connected and dealt damage, but didn’t knock the Shadow down.

“Bufudyne!” Yusuke followed up, with a similar result.

Joker browsed through Personas trying to find something not covered by three other teammates. “Agidyne!” Again, dealt damage but didn’t knock the enemy down.

“Kougaon!” That one was less effective than the other three, dealing scratch damage, to Akechi’s annoyance.

“Gówniarze…” the Shadow growled. “I’ll show you…” He pointed the sabre at them. “Tower of Babel!”

“Wait, co?” Joker raised an eyebrow. “Tego nie znałem.”

“Joker, ich verstehe dich nicht,” Akechi piped up. “Du sprichst eine andere Sprache.”

“¡Chicos, no puedo entender a ninguno de los dos!” Ryuji reacted.

“Gentlemen, you appear to have lost the ability to speak Japanese.” Yusuke raised an eyebrow - not that it was visible underneath the mask.

“Nie żebyśmy gadali po japońsku… a, nieważne.” Joker took a deep breath. It was going to be one of _those_ missions - not difficult, just with enough bullcrap to drag on a straightforward fight. “Czacha!” he pointed at Ryuji, then mimicked firing and cocking a two handed weapon.

“¡Simón!” The blonde produced a shotgun and fired a few shots, dealing unremarkable damage.

“Kita!” Joker went for a non-literal translation to get Yusuke’s attention. He pulled out his knife and slashed the air a few times.

“On it.” The artist charged at the Shadow with his katana out. While the attack - you guessed it - didn’t hit a weak spot, it connected and the enemy started looking a bit worse for wear.

“Tak trzymać, chłopaki!” the brunette cheered on, hoping the team could guess the meaning from the tone, then switched to a Persona with a Wind attack. “Garudajn!” The attack, for a change, missed altogether. “Cholera jasna. Kruk!” he turned to Akechi and drew a pentagram in the air, then pointed at the enemy.

“Jawohl. Eigäon!” After two turns of trying the waters, the Thieves managed to hit a weak spot - unfortunately, since the Shadow had turned out to repel Curse attacks, the weak spot was Akechi’s.

The Shadow chuckled, then pointed his sabre at the downed detective. “Debilitate!” 

“Ach, _hau ab_ ,” the detective spat, and then got slashed for massive damage.

“Niedobrze…” Joker muttered, dissatisfied.

“Can I weigh in?” Haru spoke up from the rear guard. “Can you understand me?” The leader nodded, and she continued, “Before we left the hideout, I had talked with Akechi about a new Showtime attack…”

* * *

_“Are you trying to overcompensate for what happened in the laundry room?”_

_“Probably.”_

_“I… I don’t think I…” Sigh, change of gears. “I like the idea, but I think we should trade places in it. You’re using a grenade launcher, and I’m using a toy ray gun, you need to stay further away.”_

_“But that means_ you _might end up too close.”_

_He grinned. “We’ve already established I’m good at dodging.”_

_Some more awkward silence, as she looked aside. “I’m sorry for holding you at gunpoint.”_

_He put a hand on her shoulder. “And I’m-I’m sorry for… for everything that led up to that.” Pause. “Am I- am I allowed to put my hand there? Is-is that okay?”_

* * *

Joker nodded vigorously to indicate he understood the plan, then turned to Ryuji, and mimicked hitting something with great force.

“¡Manos de Dios!” Ryuji shouted, and his Persona struck the Shadow.

The leader repeated the same gesture at Yusuke. “Brave Blade!” he commanded, and his Persona followed up.

“Diarachan!” Joker shouted, and the detective got up from the floor, fully healed. “Czarny, Kruk, scena jest wasza!”

Akechi looked at Haru, Haru looked at Akechi. 

“Bereit?”

“I’m ready, if that’s what you’re asking.”

* * *

Picture a grassy flatland.

In the middle of it, back to back, stood Akechi and Haru. He was staring stage right, she was staring stage left. He quietly lifted up his ray gun, and she mimicked the gesture with her grenade launcher. The two marched in opposite directions.

“One, two, three...”

“Eins, zwei, dre-” Akechi bumped into the Shadow. “Ausweichen Sie bitte.” He gestured at him to move away. “Das ist ein Duell.”

“Five, six, seven...”

The Shadow didn’t budge. “Aus dem Weg!” the detective looked behind himself, worried.

“Ten!” Haru spun around and fired a barrage of grenades.

Akechi took a dive to the side. He landed on the ground and fired a charged shot, which connected at the same time the projectiles did, dealing an absurd amount of damage to the target.

* * *

The forward team watched the battered Shadow kneeling on the ground.

“Is that it?” Yusuke asked. “Are you willing to surrender now?”

The Shadow looked at him with defiance. “Coffee Time,” he announced, then took a sip out of a mug that appeared in his hand, regenerating some health. 

“Er- er hat- er _hat sich geheilt!?_ ” Akechi sputtered, irritated.

“Gritar enojado en alemán le queda bien a Cuervo, ¿no crees?” Ryuji remarked.

“Nie mam prawa tego zrozumieć, ale tak, pasuje do niego.” 

The detective pulled out his ray gun out of turn and started shooting the Shadow. Pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew pew… The guns in the Metaverse operated based on how Shadows perceived them, and it’s kinda hard to estimate the ammo capacity of a sci-fi weapon. True, it’s blatantly overpowered in game terms, but I’m already playing fast and loose with combat rules.

“Joker, what should we do now?” Yusuke asked.

“Proponuję gadanie o niczym tak długo jak on strzela,” the leader replied. “Każemy mu przestać the moment the debuff wears off- Crow, enough! He’s down!”

Akechi stopped shooting, but kept the gun pointed at the enemy. The Shadow stared him in the eyes. “Kończ waść, wstydu oszczędź.”

“Japanese, if you please,” Joker replied. “And get up.”

“What’s the point?” he said. “I ran off from my shithouse of a country years ago and keep missing it ever since.” He lowered his head. “I _know_ it sucks and whenever I read the news I get more reasons why it sucks, but _I still miss it_.”

“That’s not an excuse to be a prick to people, you know.”

“You could try your luck elsewhere,” Ann piped in. “Maybe closer to your homeland, so when you start missing it again, you could drop in for a weekend or something.”

“Like moving to a different continent is easy,” the Shadow spat.

“Nobody said it is,” Joker countered. “And you can try something less intense. Maybe your embassy has job openings.”

“Or maybe get some therapy.”

“Just… do something about the things that bother you,” the brunette added. “Don’t be passive. _Act._ ”

A pause. “Fine,” the Shadow finally said, then looked at the group. “I’ll try.” 

He disappeared in a flash of white light, leaving behind his sabre. Joker picked it up to inspect it. The blade was almost a meter long, a bit wider at the business end. The words PAN TADEUSZ were engraved on the side. “Mona, I think that’s your cut of tea,” he smirked at his own bad pun, handing the weapon over to the cat. “Good work all around, everyone. Crow, could we speak for a moment.”

“It’s about attacking out of turn, isn’t it?” He rolled his eyes. “I got a bit miffed, it won’t happen again.”

“That’s the thing: It _will_ happen again,” Joker said. “And I’m not saying that ‘cause you’re _worse_ than us or anything. I’m saying this ‘cause this entire group’s basically a buncha teens that got angry about injustice once and never looked back.” He poked the detective in the chest with a finger. “You _will_ get mad at something at some point down the line, and what’s important is that you keep the anger controlled. Directed. Pointed at the bad guys. Got it?”

“I... guess?” Akechi replied. “I mean, I don’t want to make any serious declarations that will end up meaningless when push comes to shove.”

“At least _try_ , okay?” He smiled. “Alright, people, do we go back up or do we stay and beat up some more Shadows?”

“Personally, I’m in favour of the latter option,” the detective spoke up.

Makoto turned to him. “Permission to speak freely?”

“Granted.”

“I expected more… well, more bloodlust from you. Snarling, screams, the whole package.”

“Eh.” he shrugged. “Combat still brings me joy, but I feel like all the,” he ahemed, “outward displays of it are pointless, not to mention irritating to the team and detrimental to my throat.”

The president chuckled. “You, being concerned about other people? That’s a new one.”

“It’s pure pragmatism on my part.”

“From a guy that attacked eight people and expected to win?” Morgana piped in. “Still a new one.”

* * *

The party decided to stay in the Mementos and practice some more, and ended up leaving somewhere in the evening. Nothing worth mentioning happened and everyone was content. 

As they emerged in the real world, Joker and Ryuji’s phones buzzed.

“Mishima,” the blonde read from the screen. “21 missed calls.”

“Thirty-six on my end.” The brunette’s phone played a ringtone - call number 37 from the classmate. He picked it up. “Hey, what’s up?”

The group couldn’t hear what the person on the other side was saying, but the reactions of the brunette were worrying. “What?” He raised an eyebrow. “This is a bad joke, innit?” His eyes widened slightly, as he processed the info. “What do you mean: there’s a video?” Another pause, during which his usual easy-going demeanor evaporated in record time: “No, _no, no no no. Fuck!_ ” he raised his voice, not paying attention to the crowd.

“What’s going on?” Ann asked.

“I want you in Leblanc _five minutes ago_.” he commanded, in a much more authoritative tone than usual, then hung up and looked at Futaba with a pained expression.

“In Leblanc?” the geek reacted, worried. “What happened? Is Sojiro in danger?”

In response, he pulled her in closer and embraced her tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been brought to you by the "abbr" HTML tag.
> 
> Polish and Mexican Spanish were written by native speakers (me and a friend of mine) but German was heavily supplemented with Google and corrections are welcome.


	13. Karmic Death...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, cw: interrogation room, except this time I’m certain it’s necessary.

When the leader of the Phantom Thieves tells you you’re supposed to be somewhere five minutes ago, you’re there five minutes ago. Or, if your time machine is in the shop, you pay for a cab.

Yuuki Mishima ignored the ‘closed for the next few days’ note on the door and walked into Leblanc. The cafe was empty except for most of the Thieves waiting for someone: Joker and Futaba (glued to him) were sitting in one of the booths, with Ryuji and Ann opposite them, the Shibuya people watcher standing by the door. Morgana was lying on the counter, Haru was inspecting the coffee beans on the shelf, curious, and some kid with messy light-brown hair and a hoodie was sitting by the counter. “Um, excuse me, have we met?”

“ _Nah, I came ‘ere for a cuppa an’ they keep me ‘ostage._ ”

“Don’t mess with him, Akechi.” Joker growled.

“Wait, that’s…” The Phanboy frowned. “ _You._ ”

“Me.” The detective took the glasses off. “I can’t leave the hideout without a disgui-” He was interrupted by Mishima slapping him in the face. “…huh?”

“ _Do you know how much time I spent deleting posts on the Phansite after you killed Okumura?!_ ” He kicked him in the shin.

The detective shot him a glare in response. “Wow, I _almost_ registered that blow. Ask Futaba for some tips.”

“Both of you are going to _shut your fucking mouths_ ,” the brunette snarled, then collected himself when the geek squeezed him tighter. “Sorry, I’m calm, I’m calm. I don’t want you or anyone to be at each other’s throats. Both of you are equal members of the team.”

“He doesn’t deserve to be insulted like that,” Akechi remarked, before adding, “Who are you, by the way?”

“Nobody significant.” Mishima shot him a glare. “Just the owner, administrator, and moderator of the Phantom Aficionado Website. _Unflinchingly loyal_ to the Thieves.”

He got an eye roll in response. “I wanted a _name_. First or last.”

“Yuuki Mishima. Call me Mishima.”

Akechi outstretched his hand. “Goro Akechi. Call me whatever, just be original with your insults.”

The Phanboy awkwardly shook it before turning to the leader. “So, why did you want me to come?”

“Because, as I expected,” he hugged Futaba a little tighter, “our support might need support, and you’re the second most computer literate person that’s in the know.” He glanced at the geek. “Can you give him instructions if he’ll need any?”

Futaba pulled out her phone, typed _i can try_ and showed it to him. 

“Good. We’ll be talking details as soon as-”

As if on cue, Makoto entered the cafe with a bag on her shoulder.

“-as soon as Makoto comes back from Ōta with her laptop,” he finished.

“I also borrowed sis’ car again, just in case.” She put the bag on the table and sat on a bar stool, facing Mishima. “So, what do we know?”

“I got the link to the video a few hours ago.” the Phanboy explained. “It has Mr Sakura reading the demands out loud. Someone just off-screen was holding a silenced gun to his head.”

Joker and Futaba embraced each other tighter.

“Suppressed,” Akechi insisted. 

“Anyway, they want to, quote, ‘talk to Goro Akechi or other Phantom Thief of your choosing’. They’ll be waiting tomorrow at noon on the Wakōshi station to pick them up. Also, ‘don’t call the police ‘cause we _are_ the police’.”

Haru glanced at the detective. “Didn’t you send those three goons to Wakō a week ago?”

“That could be just a coincidence.”

“Wait, what goons?” the Phanboy asked.

“On the day when I regained consciousness, some nitwits came over to arrest Mr Sakura-”

“Why were you unconscious?”

“I was tired and beaten after… either trying to murder the Thieves or get murdered by them,” he shrugged. “I’m not sure myself at this point.”

Mishima turned to Joker. “…what the double-hockey-sticks did you drag me into?”

“Back to the main topic,” Makoto piped in, “we could try to change the hearts of the kidnappers if we knew their names.” She turned to the detective. “Do you know the names of those three that were here before?”

“Regrettably, no,” Akechi replied.

“And who knew about your involvement with the conspiracy? Maybe we can narrow it down to a manageable amount of people and go after them one by one.”

“I…” he focused, “I can’t tell, really. I wasn’t really _introduced_ to people, I just passed them on the corridor a few times too many for it to be a coincidence.”

“Okay, you probably have this covered, but I gotta ask:” Mishima glanced at the detective, “how do you know he’s not lying?”

“Short version is,” Ann joined the conversation, “he has no reason to. He knows beyond doubt that Shido would’ve killed him as a loose end.

“He also brought us some dirt on him that we’ll get published next week,” Haru added.

“And…” Akechi glanced to the side, at the dejected Futaba. “…eh, nevermind. I’m with the Phantom Thieves now, because where else can I go?”

“To the nearest police station?”

“So they can drug him, kill him and blame him for everything?” the brunette growled, with enough vitriol to make the Phanboy inch away. “Out. Of the. Question.”

“Alright, calm down,” Mishima raised his hands in surrender.

“Can we _please_ stay on the topic?” Makoto rolled her eyes. “Does anyone have any ideas on how we can get Sojiro back and _not_ just hand Akechi back over to them on a silver pla… tter…” Something clicked in her head, and since nobody else spoke up, she turned to Futaba. “Is the bug on Akechi’s phone still working? The one he had when infiltrating Shido’s office.”

The geek opened her laptop and typed something on the keyboard to run the program. Then, she got up, grabbed the detective by his sleeve and led him outside and a few meters away. “Um, lorem ipsum dolor sit amet?” Akechi’s voice could be heard from the computer speakers.

Yusuke stuck his head out. “Works like a charm. You may return now.”

The two came back and Makoto got off the bar stool and faced the detective. “I have an idea, but it requires you to take a risk for the team.”

“I’m already the most disposable-”

“You’re _not fucking disposable!_ ” Joker slammed the table, startling everybody and causing Futaba to latch to Yusuke. “Nobody in this room is!”

The president remained silent for a few moments to allow the tension to die down, then went on: “Anyway, the idea is simple: They want to talk? So let’s go there and talk. Pretend you’re turning yourself in and try to get at least one name. We’ll have a team ready to go to Mementos at any time.”

“We’re operating under an assumption that they won’t kill me the moment I show up.”

“If their intention was getting rid of a loose end, they wouldn’t permit a replacement,” the artist pointed out, embracing the geek with one arm. “But if you don’t want to take this risk, we’ll respect your decision and seek another volunteer. No pressure.”

“No pressure whatsoever,” the detective said, feeling everyone’s stares on him. “Can I… can I at least have some weapon on me? A collapsible nightstick, a can of pepper spray, _anything_?”

Joker pulled out his wallet and tossed it at him. “A friend of mine is running a pawn slash weapon slash airsoft shop in Shibuya. I’ve been buying all the equipment from him. Get whatever you need, and mention I sent ya for a discount.”

“You have a _lot_ of friends.” Akechi put on the glasses. “Address?”

“Morgana will show you the way. Get him some tuna for it.”

* * *

The store was empty, other than Akechi, Morgana in the bag, and the owner - an intimidating-looking fellow with a visible gecko tattoo on his neck - staring at him from underneath his cap’s brim.

“Good evening, sir,” the detective said, defaulting to a formal tone. “I’ve been told by Joker that I can acquire some arms here.”

He glanced at him, disinterested. “By who?”

Akechi quietly pointed at the glasses on his face.

“Ah, that kid. What are you interested in?”

“Do you have any walking sticks?”

Morgana poked his head out of the sports bag on the detective’s back. “Walking sticks?”

“It’s a decent bludgeon you can carry everywhere without drawing too much attention,” he explained. “Feigning weakness is also a plus.”

“So you’re talking to the cat too, huh?” Iwai said, reaching under the counter. “Everyone’s got a quirk.” He put a black cane on it. “This one’s aluminum - heavier than wooden canes, but much more durable. Despite that, it still looks inconspicuous enough to be taken for a normal cane. It's got a nice wide hook for when you want to trip someone up.” He cracked a small grin. “And black matches everything.”

Akechi picked the stick up and inspected it with a gleam in his eyes. He liked its weight in his hands. “How much does it cost?”

“15 thousand yen.”

“Perfect.” The detective counted out the exact amount from Joker’s wallet and handed it over.

“You want anything else?”

“Nope,” Akechi smiled. “Thank you and goodnight.” He walked out of the store, then turned to Morgana. “Do you mind if I go on a little walk? I feel like I need to practice a convincing limp.”

* * *

“He’s…” Mishima spoke up, “he’s taking his sweet time, isn’t he?”

Makoto pulled out her phone and opened the PT chat app. _Where are you?_ she typed.

A response came back: _I bought what I had to and went for a walk. I need to clear my head a bit._

Futaba felt concerned. She opened a terminal and typed in _~/rootkit-tracker -h 20 -m -r_. A map of Tokyo was shown in a separate window, with multiple red dots on it. She showed it to the group.

“What are we looking at?” Makoto asked.

“I think she’s checking Akechi’s location,” the Phanboy guessed. “The ‘h’ flag means… history? The last twenty registered positions?” Futaba nodded. “And ‘m’ means showing that on a map, and not just outputting the coordinates in console.”

One dot disappeared at the end and reappeared at the beginning of the line.

“And the ‘r’ flag means refreshing or real time,” he added, and got another nod in response.

“So, you can keep up with Futaba’s tools, that’s great,” Joker remarked.

“Just guessing things from context. I mean, it’s not ‘flag1’ to ‘flag9’.”

Makoto looked at the line of dots of the screen and something clicked in the head. “Can you move the map around a bit?” The geek pointed at the arrow keys and the president tapped them a few times, confirming her suspicions. “Oh, _fiddlesticks._ ”

Ryuji couldn’t help but giggle. “What happened?”

“He’s heading towards the courthouse. My sister’s Palace.”

“…oh, _fuck._ ”

* * *

Morgana realized what’s happening when he felt himself shapeshift. He poked his large head out of the bag and noticed that Akechi’s wearing his Metaverse toy soldier uniform.

“Where are we?”

“Older Niijima’s Palace,” the detective turned to him and smacked him in the face with his mask’s beak. “Sorry for that,” he took it off.

“And what are we doing here?”

“I’m making an educated guess, and you’re tagging along,” he said, in that polite tone affably evil villains use to make backhanded threats. “Or not - you can run back to Yongen to report about my behaviour.” He gently put the bag on the ground. “I’m not forcing you to stay.”

The cat weighed his options. Running off would’ve meant leaving him unattended and unwatched, and trying to take him one-on-one would end with a cat-shaped-human-shaped stain on the ground.

“I’m sticking with you.” He got out of the bag.

“Alright, it’s not _your_ funeral.” Akechi picked it up and marched in a direction the cat was worried he would march. “Why do you think the Palace is still standing? You _did_ steal the Treasure, didn’t you?”

“Well… no,” he said. “We needed it to stand for us to, well… ”

“To trick me into shooting a cognitive copy of Joker.” He sighed wearily. “Let’s not sugarcoat this.” The two entered the police station. “But you managed to convince her to help you, got her on your side. Wouldn’t that cause the Palace to collapse?”

“Apparently not,” Morgana shrugged. “This isn’t an exact science. By the way, how did you figure it out?”

“Someone made a comment on TV about turning the phones off, and I remember that Sae-”

“Not that. What you’re doing right now.”

“Oh.” Pause. “As I said, it was an educated guess. Haru inadvertently confirmed you’re holding onto it, and that one person can access it without the others noticing. And, well, if this place is still accessible, it’s perfect for storing some very illegal things.” The two found themselves in the basement, standing in front of the door to the interrogation room. “Of course, if you put it _literally anywhere else_ in the Palace, I’ll be foiled.”

“In retrospect, we really should have.”

Akechi sighed, grabbed the doorknob, and opened the door. It was all still there. The table. The two chairs. The handgun, lying next to the magazines and the suppressor.

“No corpses,” he remarked.

“The cognitions dissolve a moment after they pass away.” Morgana winced. “We… tested that beforehand.”

“I had to… I had to shoot the guard first,” the detective remarked. “Your whole plan would’ve fallen apart if I showed _literally any hesitation_ , ‘cause I would’ve noticed the corpse disappear.”

“I wonder what would happen if you did.”

“I’d double down.” He didn’t even think about the answer. “Get out of the Metaverse and shoot the real deal.”

Morgana looked at him. There was a certain, for lack of a better word, stiffness to him, similar to the one he had displayed after seeing Shido’s little death note. “Aren’t you too hard on yourself?”

“It took beating me within an inch of my life,” inhale, “and witnessing my cognitive doppelganger mocking me to my face,” inhale, “to realize how _boundlessly idiotic_ my whole approach was.”

“Yep, you’re too hard on yourself.”

“ _Aw, why won’t we feel bad about the guy that pulled the trigger?!_ ” he said, in a mocking high-pitch voice. “ _He had it bad too, you know?!_ ” Another breath to collect himself. “Let’s grab the gun and get out of here.”

“And then what?”

He sat on one of the chairs, facing the exit, and picked up the gun. “Wander around until tomorrow noon, go to the meeting spot, shoot every kidnapper in the face, _get Mr Sakura out alive_.” He attempted to wipe any fingerprints left by the previous user with his sleeve.

“And _then_ what?”

“No clue. Hide from the cops and the Thieves or something.”

He attached the suppressor to the gun and moved the bullets around so he had two full magazines and one with three bullets missing. He then wiped the potential fingerprints of the magazines and the suppressor, just in case.

“I’m-I’m curious:” Morgana broke the silence, unnerved, “did you get any firearm training?”

“Nope,” he said. “They didn’t even give me a gun at first, but it turned out beating Shadows to death with a baseball bat takes too much time.”

“I’m surprised that… that despite his disinterest in you, Shido arranged you an actual firearm.”

“I didn’t get a talking cat to tell me that I could use a well-detailed mo…” He paused, hearing someone marching down the corridor. Out of reflex, he shoved a magazine in the well and chambered a bullet. Then, he took a breath and pointed the gun at the door, which was slammed open by someone familiar.

“Of _course_ you’re here.”

“Didn’t expect you to catch on so fast,” Akechi said, politely putting the gun on the table, so that the barrel was pointing away from both of them.

“Explain yourself,” Joker demanded.

“There is no explanation that you would find justified, so no.”

Joker pulled up a chair and sat on it. “Back to old habits, I see,” he said, in a disappointed tone.

“That is the _exact opposite_ of my,” cue air quotes, “‘old habits’. I’m skipping straight to the part where I shoot the bad guys.”

“I won’t let you kill people.” the brunette growled. “Bad guys or not.”

“Joker, saying this pains me, but…” he paused, “I’ll go through you if I have to. We're in the Metaverse, Morgana will heal whatever damage I cause.”

“What makes you think I'm stupid enough to confront you alone?”

Makoto, Ryuji and Ann entered the room. Akechi registered that none of them were in their Metaverse outfits. The cat inched towards the group. 

“Of course, the cavalry’s here. Makes sense. It worked the last time.” He looked past Joker at the group. “Were you all waiting for the most dramatic moment to reveal yourselves?”

“We are _not_ killers, Akechi.” the brunette tried to keep the conversation on-topic. 

“ _You_ aren’t.” The detective shot him a glare, and his tone switched from forcefully-polite to confrontational. “And I am _not_ willing to walk straight into a potential trap because you’re putting your moral code over getting Mr Sakura out alive.” Pause. “But I guess it’s easy to make that call when your life isn’t on the line.”

On a good day, Joker would’ve been able to shrug it off.

“How… dare you?”

That was _not_ a good day. His indignation quickly gave way to anger. “You son of a _whore_ , how dare you?! _And in this room, of all places!_ ”

“Joker, you’re riling yourself up,” Makoto said.

He stood up. “You brought the cops to the Metaverse, to the Thieves’ territory! To _my_ territory!”

“Joker, calm down,” Ann commanded, but it fell on deaf ears.

“I coulda just _blast through them_ with zero effort and deny you the opportunity to blast my fucking brains out! What- what do _you_ know about putting life on the line?!” He grabbed the pistol and put it to Akechi’s head. “You couldn’t care less if you live or die!”

“Dude!” Ryuji reacted. 

“No worries, Sakamoto,” the detective snarked. “He won’t dare to get his dainty little hands dirty like that.”

“ _THAT IS_ NOT _A THING YOU SAY WITH A GUN AT YOUR HEAD!_ ”

“Akechi, _shut up,_ ” Makoto ordered. “Joker, _put down the gun._ ”

“I should’ve left you to die in the engine room,” the brunette snarled.

“Well, now you get a chance to fix that error,” the detective replied.

“This is all your fault,” he said, breathing heavily. “Sojiro’s kidnapping, Kunikazu’s death, Shido’s ascent to power, my criminal record, _all thanks to you enabling your father, you bastard!_ ”

“Finger on the trigger, Gary Stu.”

“ _Akira, drop it!_ ”

“ _Take the fucking shot, you coward!_ ”

At that moment, Joker simultaneously made the right and the wrong decision.

The right one, by deciding that no matter the taunts from the _bastard_ in front of him, he wasn’t going to shoot him. He was _better_ than that.

And the wrong one, when instead of putting down the gun, he threw it against the table. It landed magazine-first, bounced in a weird angle and landed on the side. A casing was ejected and clinked a few times before falling on the floor.

“What the… Joker!” Makoto shouted. “It has no drop safety or something, remember?”

“At least it didn't hit anyone this time too,” Ryuji remarked, then looked at the detective blankly staring into the distance. After the longest five seconds of silence in his life, he asked, unsure, “Akechi?”

The blood trickled from underneath his fringe, down his face. Then, to hammer the point home, his corpse fell forward on the table.


	14. ...Is Cheap

“Oh man, I shot Akechi in the face,” Joker said, still processing what the heck just happened.

“WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT?!” Ryuji screamed.

“Well, I didn't mean to do it; it was an accident!”

“S-Samarecarm!” Morgana’s Persona pointed his rapier towards Akechi’s corpse, and he slowly lifted himself up, alive. If you saw this coming, congratulations, and if you really expected the protagonist of this story to die in the middle of an arc like that, I’ve got a bridge to sell ya.

“Urgh…” he groaned, clutching his head. “The killshot was promptly followed by a resurrection spell. I expected nothing less.” That, in turn, was followed up with a slap across the face from Makoto. “Relatively light, compared to what you’re _capable of,_ Niijima. Merely an expression of disapproval as opposed to-”

“Hey, here’s an idea:” Ryuji spoke up, “how about we continue this discussion _outside_ the murder room?”

“We all skipped dinner, didn’t we?” Ann added. “Let’s get back to Leblanc and order takeaway for everyone.”

“Great idea, Lady Ann!” Morgana grinned awkwardly. “Food and deescalation are two of my favourite things!”

“Go ahead,” Makoto pointed at the weapon on the table. “I’m just going to unload this thing and join up with you.”

The original four left the room. Akechi wiggled his fingers around. “For your consideration: I won’t leave any prints.”

“Just give me the gloves.”

The detective took off the white gloves and tossed them to the president. She put them on and picked the firearm up.

“Don’t point the gun towards anything you don’t want to destroy,” he said, dryly.

“Oh, sorry,” she pointed it to the side and removed the magazine.

“…I didn’t expect you to take that seriously.”

“I watched exactly _one_ internet tutorial on handgun maintenance, I’m deferring to your superior hands-on experience,” she said, pulling the slide back and getting the chambered bullet out. “Out of morbid curiosity, how many times have you shot yourself with that thing?”

“Six on accident and once deliberately.”

She put the bullet back in the magazine. “I kind of want to hear the ‘deliberate’ story.”

“I kind of don’t want to tell it.” He handed over the sports bag. “Do you need something to store the gun in?”

The president packed up, the detective grabbed his cane, and the two left the room, the station, and then the Metaverse. Makoto handed the gloves back to their owner, and they walked over to Joker standing by her car, with Ryuji and Morgana by his side, and Ann standing a bit further away, talking on the phone with someone.

“…resolved amicably,” she said. “Yes, she can stop worrying, we’ll need to talk things through, but nobody was hurt too much. Order some food for everyone, Joker will pay for it when we come back… Good. See ya soon.” She hung up, put her phone away and pulled out a pack of wet wipes. “Here, wipe the blood off.”

The brunette looked at Akechi rubbing his face and opened his mouth, and then said nothing for a few seconds. Finally, he blurted out “…there’s a lot to unpack.”

“Personally,” the detective threw the used wipe in a nearby bin, “I’m in favour of throwing away the whole suitcase.”

“That would’ve been convenient, wouldn’t it?” He started pacing around, glancing in random directions to see if there’s anyone within hearing range. “Let’s just… pretend that I didn’t put a gun to your head _,_ didn’t mishandle it the same way Haru did yesterday, and that I didn’t tell you to your face that letting you live was _a mistake._ ”

Akechi shrugged. “I didn’t _stay_ dead, you fixed that almost immediately. And as for the things you said… return to me when you say something I don’t keep telling myself.”

“I’m aiming higher than your guilty conscience.”

The detective cracked a smile. “Well, you went for the head.”

The group collectively failed to stifle a giggle. Joker shot them a glare, displeased. “Glad to see you’re amused.”

“I mean,” Ann spoke up, “Akechi has enough issues to shrug this thing off, you’re very obviously regretful and will do your best to avoid stuff like this in the future. Let’s not dwell on this any more than necessary.”

“Say sorry to Detective Prick… original enough for ya?” Ryuji turned to the detective, who waved his palm in a ‘maybe’ gesture. “Say sorry to him and let’s get ready to rescue the one alive non-garbage parent out of… two? Three?”

Joker took a breath to ease his nerves and faced Akechi. “I’m… I’m sorry for claiming you should have died and for accidentally shooting you. How can I make up for that?”

Akechi rubbed his chin. “Hmmm… off the top of my head, you could pay for everyone’s dinner tonight.” He pulled out the brunette’s wallet and handed it over. “You might need this back.”

“Can we consider the matter of the accidental discharge resolved?” Makoto opened the car boot and gently placed the bag inside.

“One last word with Joker in private, if I may?”

The brunette nodded. The detective pulled out his phone, put his arm on his shoulder, and activated the Metaverse app. Joker watched as Akechi’s clothes switched to the toy soldier outfit and a mask appeared on his face. He took it off.

“ _That_ private, huh?”

“One… thing you’ve said keeps echoing in my head. ‘And in this room, of all places’.” he repeated, avoiding eye contact. “I’ve… messed you up a bit, didn’t I?”

Joker sighed. “A _bit_.”

“I…” The detective outstretched his hand, unsure. “I’m sorry for… for _deliberately_ shooting you. For what little it is worth.”

“Didn’t you say sorry for that already? Back when you tried to get Futaba to stab you?”

“That… that one was for what ha-had happened beforehand.” Exhale. “The, um, the police brutality and drugging. I-I-I mean, it wasn’t _my_ initiative, but…” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand. “ _Bugger me,_ I’ve messed you up a _lot_.”

“I want to disagree, but…” he looked elsewhere, “well…” After a moment of awkward silence and avoiding eye contact, the brunette grabbed the detective’s hand and pulled him in for a quick hug and a pat on the back. “Forgiven. Let’s get back before they start to get worried.”

The two left the Metaverse. The others were already in the car, waiting. Joker called shotgun, and Akechi took the free spot in the backseat. For a few minutes after they took off nobody said anything, before Akechi spoke up, “So, when will I get dressed down for trying to get my hands on a firearm behind your back?”

“What would be the point of that?” the brunette responded. “You already know you did something wrong, and we’re going to hide that thing somewhere you won’t be able to guess, so nobody, you included, will get shot.” He stared blankly through the windshield at the road in front of him. “What was your plan, Goro? What did you even hope to achieve?”

“Rather than try and coax the names out of the kidnappers, I shoot everyone in the face and get Mr Sakura out.” He got an irritated groan in response. “ _Please_ don’t give me your killing-is-bad spiel now.”

Cue finger-quotes. “The ‘killing-is-bad spiel’ aside, the best case scenario for your idea is having to dispose of an unknown amount of dead bodies, and the police cracking down _hard_ on us once they realize the Thieves now kill people.”

“I’m not a Thief and never was.”

“They’ve sent a message through the Phansite and would’ve gotten The Homicidal Detective in response,” Ryuji spoke up. “They won’t stop to ask ya about your precise affiliation.”

“And that’s still the _best_ case,” Joker raised his voice a tiny bit. “The worst case is, you blow the element of surprise and get yourself or Sojiro killed or arrested and suicided, having accomplished _nothing_.”

“You might be fine with dying for no purpose, but _we_ aren’t letting you,” Ann added, scratching the cat sitting on her lap behind the ear.

“And doesn’t your gun fire some special ammo?” Makoto weighed in. “You mentioned it in that anecdote you didn’t finish yesterday.”

“Subsonic, yes. Smaller powder load and heavier bullets.”

“Guns aren’t common in Japan to begin with. If the police would’ve found such an unusual bullet on a crime scene, they could connect it to you, and to the Thieves by proxy.”

Akechi rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “ _Fine,_ I concede, this was a stupid plan that could get other people in trouble,” he growled, ashamed and angry at himself. “I didn’t think it through, It’s a bit of a _theme_ of mine, apparently.”

“And we could’ve reached that conclusion without a resurrection spell if you just _talked to us_ , Goro,” Joker sighed.

“Look, Ace Defective,” Ryuji took the eye roll as ‘stop this nonsense’, “we’ve already seen your worst side, whatever depraved murder-y thoughts cross your mind won’t faze us. You can open up, really.”

After a moment, the detective turned to Ann. “Every time you fire an SMG with one hand, I die a little inside.” 

She smirked. “That would suggest you aren’t completely dead inside already.”

“I’m as shocked as you are, but really,” he tried to demonstrate the proper way with his empty hands, “ _that handguard is there for a reason_.”

The car took a turn into a side road in Yongen-Jaya and Makoto parked it. The five plus the cat got off and marched to Leblanc. After paying (and handsomely tipping) an annoyed delivery girl waiting outside, they brought in three large pizzas and a few large bottles of fizzy drinks. 

“Ah, you have returned,” Yusuke greeted them. “Did you resolve the issues on the way?”

“Yup,” Joker put the food and drinks on the counter. “It was just a misunderstanding. Akechi had an… alternative plan, but we talked him out of it.”

Mishima glanced at the detective. “And what was it, ‘grab a gun and shoot everyone’?”

“Yes.”

Cold sweat went down the Phanboy’s back. “…wh-when all you have is a hammer, huh?”

“Anyway,” Haru spoke up, grabbing a slice of mushroom pizza, “while you were out, we’ve realized that since we don’t need to do the spy stuff behind Akechi’s back anymore, Futaba can prepare some proper equipment.”

The geek typed something with a blank expression. `"Well, proper equipment made out of the scrap I had in the house,"` the text-to-speech software on her laptop read out. `"A discrete camera and microphone we can connect to Rootkit’s phone. No earpiece though, sorry."`

The detective inspected the electronics lying on her table and smiled. “I’m nevertheless grateful, and a little bit in awe of your versatility.”

Type type type. `"Colon three. I need to keep myself busy to stop my Sanity meter from dropping to zero. Pass me a slice."`

Akechi grabbed the box and brought it closer to the girl. Then, since he was already up, he walked up to people, offering them a slice. Ryuji stuffed one in his mouth with a “Thuhks”, Ann politely nodded and then took a massive bite out of another, and Joker just stared at him with a tired expression, and sighed.

“Is something bothering you?”

“Eh.”

“Come on,” he put the box on the counter in front of him, “if I’m supposed to be opening up, so are you.”

Another sigh followed, and he reached a slice of pizza. “For all my reservations about your approach, _nom,_ our idea still puts you at risk.”

The detective shrugged and took a slice of his own. “I don’t get why you’re worried about me.”

“As a peer and a Persona user from a troubled background, you’re inherently relatable to us,” Yusuke cut his pizza with a knife and fork. 

Futaba put her slice in her mouth to free her hands and typed something. `"You’re trying to get Sojiro out of a pickle,"` the TTS software read out. 

“You’re working towards becoming a better person,” Haru poured herself a glass of diet coke.

Ryuji swallowed. “We have basic friggin’ empathy.”

Akechi took another bite, put off-kilter by the outpouring of support. “You… you all are _absurdly_ soft on me, considering, uh, considering even my actions this evening.”

“Going hard on you got us where we are right now,” Joker countered. “We might as well try the other thing.” He took a swig from a two-liter bottle next to him. “Suggestion: you’ll have a camera, a mike, and a GPS tracker on you. That means someone can stay close, but not too close to be spotted, and step in with a taser or something if things go south. I volunteer.”

“Counter-suggestion:” Makoto spoke up, “you’re too versatile in the Metaverse, and _I_ have martial arts training.”

“I don’t have any,” the athlete added, “but I can run fast and swing a baseball bat. Can I tag along?”

“Yeah, but the rest-”

The detective slammed the counter with an open palm, startling people (and a cat). “Do you really expect me to just… let you get _endangered_ over _my_ fuck-ups?!”

Joker didn’t reply to it at first, both to allow Akechi to calm down a bit and to formulate a well-put sentence. “First, this isn’t _just_ about you, it’s also about a man close to everyone in this room, so don’t be surprised people are volunteering to take a risk. And second… you’re a _teammate._ ” He put his hand on the detective’s shoulder. “You had nowhere else to go, and we couldn’t just leave you out to dry, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re helping us out. Let us help _you_ out in return.” After a beat, he glanced at the team. “Am I speaking for everyone here? I mean, we’re 30k words into this mess, he has proven himself, hasn’t he?”

Nobody protested. Futaba closed her laptop, walked up to Akechi and quietly embraced him, staring him in the eyes.

“Um, I-I-I…” he very carefully pried both her hands off, “I need air. I need… to process this all, okay?” He grabbed his cane and inched towards the exit. “I need to leave the room before I say or do _something_ and lose this again, alright?” His back hit the door. “I’ll sleep in Ōta tonight, see y’all.”

And with that said, he ran out, towards the subway station. Joker sighed, pulled out his phone, and wrote _Be back tomorrow at 9:30, there’ll be breakfast._

“What _is_ his problem?” Mishima asked.

“He thinks being a villain means he doesn’t get to be treated like a human being,” Morgana replied. “It’s kinda tragic, really.”

The Phanboy stared at him, confused. “…can I get a translation?”


	15. Last Request

Akechi was torn.

On one hand, throwing himself under a subway train seemed like a fun alternative to dealing with his vestigial conscience while being gently patted on the head by Joker et al in spite of all the crap he put them through.

On the other hand, if he had thrown himself under a subway train, that would’ve meant someone else would have to be the bait in the Thieves’ plan to get Mr Sakura back, and he hated that thought even more than he hated himself.

So at 9:25, he got out of a taxi in Yongen-Jaya and marched to Leblanc, quietly hoping for a freak accident granting him the sweet release of death, but it didn’t happen - you’re not getting out of this so easily, pancake murder boy.

The bell at the door clanged as he entered and left the cane by the door. Joker was standing by the stove, cooking something in larger pots than usual, Haru was preparing a coffee behind the counter, and Mishima and Futaba were sitting in one of the booths, by her laptop.

“Ooh, you dressed up,” the princess remarked, noticing his trademark beige suit.

“If they’re supposed to pick me up at Wakōshi, they need to spot me in the crowd.” He adjusted his tie - it felt reassuring around his neck. Like a noose, but comfy.

`"Rootkit, your phone,"` the TTS program read out.

“Here you go,” he handed it over and sat down by the counter. “I was told there would be breakfast.”

“Yup. I’m cooking curry for everyone, and Haru’s on coffee duty.”

A half-filled espresso mug was placed in front of him. “I allowed myself to be a bit creative with the blend. Try a sample and tell me what you think.”

Having no expectations, he put the mug to his lips and slowly drank everything. “Hm.” He put it out of the way. “Competently made, very tasty, though it leaves an aftertaste of bitter almo- _urk._ ” He grimaced, then fell forward on the counter, just in time to startle Joker about to serve him his curry. Haru giggled.

“Um, what’s happening?” Mishima reacted, unsure.

Type type type. `"Bitter almonds contain cyanide. It’s a poison joke."`

“See, he’s suicidal and Haru has a reason to want him dead. Comedy fucking gold,” the brunette put the meal in front of him, dejected. “You’re giving me interrogation room flashbacks.”

“Crap, sorry,” he picked himself up. “I won’t do that again.” He turned to the princess. “The coffee was splendid. May I have a large refill?” He started eating, Haru reached for a large mug, and the brunette returned to the stove. 

“You’re on edge, Joker,” Mishima stated the obvious. “I’ve never seen you like that before.”

He sighed, putting another serving of curry on the plate. “You know what’s cool about the Phantom Thieves’ usual MO?”

“The knowledge that you’re making the world a better place?”

“The catharsis coming from crushing a bad guy?” Haru piped in.

Joker put the plate in front of the girl. “I mean, you’re both right, but what I was going for is, you know what to expect. There’s a formula. You see the enemies coming. You take turns. When you get hit too hard, you can just… eat a fucking candy bar or something, heal yourself and get going.” He returned for portions for Mishima and Futaba. “But today the bad guys won’t let you get a hit in, the attacks won’t be announced, and there’s no health items; when they shoot you, _you die!_ ”

“Except when you-”

“One more word and _I will cut your tongue out, Goro_.”

“Anyone else want coffee?” Haru piped in.

After everyone was served, Joker went to grab a bite for himself, but then the front door was slammed open and in came Ryuji, twirling a baseball bat in his hand. “I’m battin’ a thousand!”

He was followed by Makoto. “I allowed myself to stop by Untouchable and acquire some… battery-powered help,” she said, pulling out a stun baton from her pocket and displaying it. “Also, sis insisted on tagging along.”

Sae Niijima entered the building, marched past the two, grabbed Akechi by the lapels, and stared him down. “If you attack my sister or her friends ever again, the police won’t find your corpse.”

“There’s eight Thieves and one of me. If I _do_ hurt her, there won’t be anything left for you,” he said, unfazed. “Also, try Haru’s coffee, it’s outstanding.”

“Sae,” the brunette spoke up.

“Akira,” the prosecutor released the detective, who returned to eating. “As Makoto had mentioned, I decided to volunteer for the ‘Plan B’ team.”

“Do you know how to fight?”

“I train kickboxing and aikido.”

“Are you aware of the risks?”

“Yes, and that’s why I refuse to let Makoto go unsupervised.”

“Welcome aboard then. Are you guys hungry?” All three nodded, and Joker went to the stove to get food for the newcomers. Haru put two coffees for the Niijima sisters and a bottle of OJ for Ryuji and the prosecutor took a sip from her cup.

“…wow, the coffee is _marvelous_.”

“I know, right?” Akechi said between bites. “Distinct from Mr Sakura’s usual, but great nevertheless.”

The princess smiled proudly.

`"Alright,"` the text-to-speech software read out, `"Rootkit, come over, we’ve gotta install the hardware on you."` The camera was secured with a bit of black tape just underneath the knot of his tie, with a few barely visible cables going in parallel behind the tie into an inner pocket of his suit jacket, where the rest of the electronics were placed - a microphone, a battery, and a Wi-Fi adapter connecting things to his phone. `"The video and audio will go through your phone to everyone via the chat app. I’ve already installed it for Nishima, I’ll install it for Miss Niijima in a moment, and everyone else will get an update link in a sec."`

Sae handed over her phone and everyone else had received a notification. After a moment, everyone was able to see whatever the detective would’ve been able to see if he was thirty centimeters shorter.

Type type type. `"Video’s working, we just have to test the audio. Could you go upstairs and say something?"`

Akechi marched to the attic. “Can I borrow one of your hoodies, Joker?” everyone’s phones announced. “I want to travel to Wakōshi via subway. Maybe take a scenic route, spend some time alone with my thoughts.”

“Yeah, sure!” he shouted.

The prosecutor turned to the brunette. “Aren’t you worried that someone might be watching the cafe?”

“Morgana’s patrolling around, just in case.”

“Morgana?”

“The cat.”

Sae raised an eyebrow. “Your _cat_ is on guard duty?”

“Just trust me on this one.”

Akechi marched downstairs, ruffling his hair and putting on Joker’s glasses he had held on to, just in case. The prosecutor looked at the combination of a hoodie, suit pants and dress shoes. “You look like you’re returning from a formal party with an extreme hangover.”

“But do I look recognizable?”

“No, not really.”

“That’s all that I’m concerned with.” He sat back by the counter and finished what little remained of his curry. “Where and when will the Metaverse team meet up?”

“Here, at eleven.”

Akechi checked the time. “I think I can be at the rendez-vous point by then. Better too early than too late.” He drank the coffee and slid off the stool. “If I do not come back, make my crimes and motivation known to the public. Drag my name through the mud without a second thought.”

`"Goro."`

He froze, then turned towards Futaba, staring at him. “Erm, y-yes?”

`"Bring back my dad and wipe away the debt."`

“I… I-I-I…” he collected himself, “I’ll do my best, I promise.” He inched towards the door and grabbed his cane.

“Can I walk you to the station?” Joker asked. “Futaba, can you turn off the bug for a moment? I want some privacy.”

She gave him a thumbs up and pressed some buttons on the keyboard. The brunette marched to the front door and opened them, allowing the detective to limp out onto the street. The two quietly marched towards the station before Akechi spoke up.

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

“I dunno. I just don’t want my last words to you to be ‘I will cut your tongue out’.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I… never wanted to be your enemy, Goro. Even after everything that happened, even though it still stings, I don’t want to. Especially now, when you’re sticking your neck out for someone close to me.”

The detective looked aside. “Can I… can I make a confession?”

“Sure.”

“I…” he paused, “I’m an _imbecile._ ”

“You’re too harsh on yourself, but go on.”

“I’m _not harsh enough!_ ” he raised his voice. “I was so… _envious of you!_ It was… it was one of the driving forces for most of my actions over the past month, and now I’m seeing you _crack under pressure_ and the realization bashes me across the head that the perfect infallible Akira Fucking Kurusu exists in my head and _literally nowhere else!_ ” 

“Deep breaths.” Joker allowed him a few inhales and exhales before crossing his arms. “So, you finally realized I’m human, huh?”

“I’m realizing a _lot_ of obvious things nowadays.”

A pause, as the two stared at each other blankly, before Joker blurted out: “...do you want a hug?”

“I don’t know, do _you_?”

Cue a beat, and then a hug. An angry, awkward, too-tight-for-comfort hug between two people that were on the opposite sides a week earlier, were forced by circumstances to cooperate, and attempted to salvage whatever genuine friendship had been between them, if any. At least _I’m_ going for friendship but I can’t stop y’all from interpreting this otherwise, can I?

They released each other after a long while and then awkwardly stared at one another. 

“…please don’t die.”

“…I’ll try not to, honest.”

After another period of silence, Akechi turned and limped downstairs to the platform, while Joker returned to Leblanc and got hugged half to death by most people present. Not because they had overheard the conversation with the bug - Futaba had turned it off, as requested - but because he _very obviously needed one._

* * *

Five minutes from Yongen to Shibuya, ten minutes from Shibuya to Nagatachō, and forty minutes from Nagatachō to Wakōshi, plus thirty minutes in total spent on changes and thought-collecting. Two stations before Wakōshi, he messaged the other Thieves and confirmed that the Metaverse team’s complete and waiting in Leblanc, the Plan B team is heading in that general direction, and both teams can still access the audio and video feed from his bug.

He got off at the destination station and limped out through the south exit, then sat down on a bench near the bus terminus. Then, he took off the hoodie and hung it over his right shoulder, removed the glasses, and waited. 

The first two people that approached him were pushy fangirls _,_ wanting a selfie and an autograph on some personal belongings. He went through the motions with an almost genuine-looking smile, quietly wondering how much of his current misanthropy was based on such interactions. The nondescript-yet-familiar man in the black suit was a welcome sight by comparison.

“You’re early,” he said. 

“I didn’t want to make you wait,” Akechi got up, leaning against his cane. “Take me to your leader. Slowly, if you please, I ended up twisting my ankle since the last time we met.”

The two marched into a black car with tinted side windows, parked nearby. As soon as the door locked behind him, the detective asked “He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

“Obviously,” the goon replied. “Alive, unhurt, he even got some cup ramen for breakfast. As we said, we just want to talk.”

“About what?”

“The boss will give you the details, but the bottom line is,” he glanced into the rear view mirror, at Akechi sitting in the backseat. “we want you to work for us.”


	16. Heel-Face Revolving Door

Akechi and the goon entered a hotel room.

It was relatively spacious. There were two single beds on the opposite sides of it, with Sojiro sitting on the one closer to the door. His hands were handcuffed in front of him, and he stared at the detective - he had been filled in on the break-in to Shido’s office, but you can’t blame him for being doubtful of Akechi’s allegiance at the moment. In the middle of the room, by the window, was a glass-and-metal table with three chairs by it, one left empty, and two on the other side taken by the other two suited stooges. 

“They’ll do the talking,” the third guy sat on the bed, next to the barista.

“Akechi!” The leader greeted him. “Welcome, sit down. Can we call you Goro?”

“That privilege is reserved for people who had held me at gunpoint.” He chuckled, sitting down.

“Fair enough. Coffee, tea?”

“Don’t pamper him,” the goon beside him, henceforth dubbed ‘the lancer’, spoke up.

“Psh, _pamper,_ ” the leader rolled his eyes. “I’m just being courteous to a guest.”

“I’ll pass. Let us get to the point, if you please,” Akechi rested his hands on the table. “I’ve been told that you want to offer me a job.”

“Indeed I do. Mostly doing whatever you were doing for the past two years, but under my orders.” He tented his fingers. “There will be other changes too.”

“Such as?”

“Pardon answering with a question, but why did you decide to jump ship and ally with the Phantom Thieves?”

“Pardon the same, but isn’t it obvious?” _In retrospect,_ he added to himself, _and when you’re not an idiot_. “Shido would’ve dealt with me as a loose end the moment the exit polls arrived.”

“Indeed. So you volunteered to kill the leader of the Thieves, allowed him to escape and lied about his death, and then you went and helped the group steal his heart.”

“Um, yes, that’s what happened.” Sojiro barely stopped himself from commenting. Back in Leblanc, some people chortled and even Joker cracked a smile.

“It's okay, I get it,” the goon went on, in a weirdly earnest tone. “Shido was an ungrateful imbecile that didn’t understand how much of an _asset_ you were. But now, he’s out of the picture.”

“As in, deceased?”

“No, just locked away so he can’t turn himself in until after the elections.” He smiled. “Currently, the people in the know can be divided into three groups - trying to reverse the change of heart, keeping their heads down and waiting for the election win, and _clever_ people, who realized you and not him are the key to all this.” He pointed at himself. “The third group consists of me and the other two guys.”

“You were able to put a guy like Shido on the fast-track to ruling a G7 country,” the lancer piped in. “Imagine what you could do working for _clever_ people.”

“So wait,” Akechi raised his hands a bit, “you’re not with the conspiracy anymore?”

“Well, we didn’t hand over a two-weeks notice,” the leader smiled at his own joke. “But yes, it’s a new thing. And we’re going to treat ya better than Shido did.”

“And probably better than the Thieves treat you now,” the lancer added. “I mean, I can’t imagine they’re soft on you after all you did.”

* * *

Back in Leblanc, everyone was gathered around Futaba’s laptop, watching the live video feed. Mishima scoffed. “Psh, like you’re not _too_ soft on him.”

As if to respond to that, the detective’s voice came out of the speakers: “Well, they did try to shoot me twice.”

The Phanboy went pale. “Y-y-you tried to _shoot him?_ ”

Haru raised an eyebrow. “Twice?”

“Our point exactly,” the goon said. Joker didn’t register anything that followed, and just stared blankly into the distance. He had shrugged those two incidents off, he thought. But that’s what Joker had said about his betrayal, that’s what he had honestly believed about himself and then he put a gun to Akechi’s head. Was that the final straw? Or maybe he didn’t get through him to begin wi-

“Earth to Joker.” Ann snapped her fingers in front of his face. “They started talking about dealing with you. Team Plan B asks if they should step in.”

“He- he would’ve acknowledged the bug on him if he _actually_ wanted to betray us again, wouldn’t he?” the brunette said, trying to convince himself.

“Or maybe he’s waiting for a dramatic moment to reveal it,” Yusuke suggested.

“I’m erring on the side of trust,” Joker proclaimed. “Stand by for now.”

* * *

“Our point exactly,” the goon said. “There’s no love lost between you and the Thieves.”

“Truth be told, I didn’t expect them to send you over,” the leader added. “But it’s convenient - you all have the same powers, but convincing one of them to work for us would’ve been infinitely harder than convincing you.”

“Our abilities differ somewhat,” Akechi corrected, “but not in a manner significant to this conversation. Anyway, do you have any targets in mind right now?”

The lancer smirked. “Oh, we do. One Ren Amamiya. You might have heard of him.”

The detective raised an eyebrow. “…who?”

“…you’re messing with us, right? The bloody leader of the Phantom Thieves!”

“That’s not what he calls himself.”

“Well, that’s the name we have in his papers,” the leader shrugged. “Anyway, we want him out of the picture. It’s pretty obvious he’s too much of a threat to keep him around, and two ‘suicides’ in custody in a row will start looking too suspicious.”

“Yeeeeah,” Akechi glanced to the side. “I can’t do it.”

The goon skipped a beat. “What do you mean ‘can’t’?”

“I’m unable to,” he elaborated. “Short version is: the powers we have make us immune to each other’s tampering. They can’t change my heart, and I can’t cause a mental shutdown in any of them. It works both ways.”

“So beat him to death with a ball-peen hammer or something,” the lancer suggested.

“This… isn’t that great of an idea either,” the detective managed to stay civil. “That would require me to get within melee range, overpower him, kill him, and leave the scene before anyone notices and retaliates,” he counted on his fingers. “And since you aren’t with the conspiracy anymore, covering up that murder will require effort, connections and or resources neither you or I have.”

Judging by the scowl on his face, the lancer didn’t like that answer. After a beat, he reached into his suit, pulled out a suppressed Glock 26, and pointed it at Akechi.

“Of course _you_ got handguns with ambidextrous switches,” he muttered, unfazed.

“Dude, put it down!” the leader demanded.

“So, _Goro,_ ” the lancer ignored him, “can you do it or not?”

“I still cannot,” the detective replied, politely. “Threats do not change the limitations of my powers or the situation that we’re currently in.”

“Put down the gun, buddy. That’s an order.”

“Don’t you see?” he turned to the leader. “He’s still on the Thieves’ side, stalling for time or something!”

“Because I refuse to pointlessly endanger my life for your goals?” Akechi’s tone turned just a teeny tiny bit sour.

A standoff of sorts followed, except one side was wielding a handgun and the other just stared daggers. “Look,” the leader said, firmly, “even if he is still supporting them, we won’t get him on our side by threatening him!”

The lancer stared at the detective, and his _frustratingly_ bland expression, as if being held at gunpoint wasn’t something out of the ordinary to him at that point. “We won’t. But if he is still supporting them,” he got up, circled the table, and put the weapon to Sojiro’s head, “we might get some mileage out of threatening the barista.”

* * *

Futaba started hyperventilating out of stress.

“I c-c-can’t look,” Joker embraced her, visibly shaking. “I’m-I’m gonna go upstairs and f-f-focus on m-m- calming my sister down.”

“Who’s in charge?” Haru asked.

“ _I don’t fucking know!_ ” he shouted. “If-if-if Plan B still has video feed, it’s Makoto. If not, I dunno. Tell me when it’s over.” The two retreated upstairs. Haru grabbed Ann’s hand in a gesture of support, Yusuke started pacing around the cafe, and Mishima gathered what little courage remained in him to not completely freak out.

* * *

“Let's meet each other halfway,” the lancer glared at the detective. “If you won’t deal with the Thief for us, we’ll do it for you. Just give us his current hideout.”

“Don’t tell him _anything_ ,” Sojiro said, almost managing to keep his composure.

“Sure, don’t. And then you can tell his daughter her daddy’s brains decorated a hotel room wall.”

That was the exact moment where Akechi stopped trying to deescalate things and started thinking about how to kill everyone sans Sojiro in the room. “I beg your fucking pardon?”

“We did our homework, _Goro_ ,” the lancer said, satisfied that he finally got the reaction out of the detective. “He has an adopted daughter, roughly your age. She wasn’t home when we came. She’s with Amamiya, isn’t she?”

“I…” Akechi adjusted his grip on the cane. “I killed her mother, you know?” The plan for the next few seconds crystallized in his head. He flung the hoodie hanging from his arm towards the leader, disorienting him. The lancer took the gun off Sojiro and attempted to point it at the detective. An opening.

“ _She will-_ ”

A strike to the wrist, causing him to drop the gun on the ground - mercifully, it didn’t fire.

“- _not lose-_ ”

A thrust to the stomach.

“ _-another-_ ”

A swing to the chin.

“- _parent-_ ” 

An overhead two-handed smash to the skull.

“- _today!_ ”

A hook to the ankle, toppling the goon, and a kick to the groin for good measure.

At that point, the third guy was standing up, guard raised, and attempted to approach the detective cautiously. Sojiro lurched from behind him and choked him with the chains of his handcuffs, leaving the goon distracted enough for Akechi to deliver two punches to the stomach. “Thank you for the assistance.”

“No problem, kid.”

A sweep to the leg, causing both to topple to the side. Sojiro managed to roll over and kneel on him to keep him pinned.

When the leader removed the hoodie from his face, Akechi was picking up the discarded firearm from the floor. “Now, come on-”

“ _Shut your fucking mouth!_ ” the detective snarled, racking the slide for intimidation and ejecting a chambered round. “ _None of ya bastards move or I’ll turn ya into bloody colanders!_ ”

* * *

The Plan B team was sitting on a staircase in the hotel, ready to step in at a moment’s notice. 

Sae stared at her phone screen in disbelief. “Did he really just…”

“If they noticed that, he’s as good as dead.” Makoto pulled out a balaclava and put it on. “We’re going in. ”

* * *

The two guys on the floor froze, too intimidated to twitch. Even Sojiro was somewhat scared, and he was - probably - on the detective's side. The goon leader slowly raised his hands, terrified. “L-look, you can just take the barista and leave. W-we won’t come back, I promise!”

“Your word isn’t worth two shits.” Akechi pointed the gun at him. “The Thieves wanted to do this nice and clean. Get your names, change your hearts, and _just this once, everybody lives!_ ” Beat. “But you had to be _clever,_ so we’re doing it the _Goro_ way. Also known as the _gory_ way.” He cracked a psychotic grin. “I never fired a Glock before, how good are the suppressors? Do you think someone will hear your death in the next room over?”

The door to the room was slammed open and Sae, Makoto and Ryuji barged in, faces covered with balaclavas and weapons held at the ready. 

“And who the _hell_ are _you?!_ ” the leader screamed.

“Akechi’s less psychotic teammates,” the president said. “Give us your full name, and you’ll get out of the room alive.”

“Y-yoshito Nishiyama.”

“Good.” She turned to the detective. “Akechi, drop the gun, please.”

“Or maybe put it down gently,” the athlete amended.

After a pause, he turned to them and lowered the pistol, the sadistic smirk disappearing from his face. “I had this under control, you know,” he said. “One of them _would've_ blurted out a name, desperate to save himself.”

“Yeah, probably,” Makoto replied, “but we might as well just get to the point, before they try to call your bl-”

Suddenly, the lancer sprung up from the floor and tackled Akechi to the ground. He grabbed the gun from his hand and pointed it at him. “Nobody moves or I kill him!”

“Oh, just surrender,” the detective deadpanned. “You’ve already lost anyway. I’m wearing a concealed microphone. The Thieves now know Mr Nishiyama’s name, which should be enough to change the hearts of all three of you.”

“But you won't be around to see that, you fucking turncoat,” he snarled, then pulled the trigger.

Cue an anticlimactic silent click.

“It works better with bullets,” Akechi grinned a grin of sheer audacity. He watched as the lancer was struck, first by the realization and then by a roundhouse kick, courtesy of Sae. It was strong enough to knock him out.

“Yeah, this is the part where we surrender, isn’t it?” Yoshito very pointedly pulled out his gun and put it on the table. Ryuji, Makoto and Akechi twitched slightly.

“If you get off of me, I can get you uncuffed,” the third goon wheezed.

* * *

Mishima ran upstairs. “He did it. Akechi did it,” he said to Joker and Futaba, sitting on the couch, tightly embraced.

“He did _what?_ ”

“We have a name and the goons have surrendered.”

“ _Ffffffffuck,_ the luck’s still on my side,” he sighed, relieved. “Can ya do the navigation thing, Futaba?”

The geek vehemently shook her head.

“Alright then, we’ll manage with Morgana,” Joker gently pried himself off and got up. “Mishima, watch Futaba.” Without waiting for the confirmation, he ran downstairs and the group, already ready to depart, left. The two stared at each other.

“You did good, you know,” he said. “You kept your cool almost to the very end. Mr Sakura will be-” A lightbulb went over his head. “…can I see your phone for a moment?”

* * *

“So,” Sojiro rubbed his uncuffed wrists, “was the gun unloaded to begin with?”

“Nope, I did it when I picked it up,” Akechi fished out a magazine from his pocket. “Any casualties would’ve been blamed on the Thieves as a group and not me specifically, and I’ve already dealt with enough accidental dischar-” His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, picked up the call, and handed the phone over to the barista. “I’m positive it’s for you.”

He put the phone to his ear. “…hello?”

The person on the other side didn’t say anything at first. Then, she stammered out “D… d… d… dad?! You’re-you’re safe! Safe!” She sobbed.

Without missing a beat, Sojiro walked up to Nishiyama and broke his nose with his free hand. “ _That’s_ for scaring my daughter. No, no, that was to someone else… Yes, I’m safe, you don't have to worry anymore…”

He marched out of the room and into the corridor to continue the conversation. “Does anyone have a tissue?” the goon asked. Makoto, out of politeness more than anything else, pulled out a pack and tossed it to him. “Thank you. What happens now?”

“We change your heart and let you go,” Ryuji asked. “We can’t really call the police, and any other punches would be kinda pointless.”

“Hm.” He wiped off the blood of his face, then turned to Akechi. “As I said earlier, nobody else is looking for you or the Thieves. They assumed you’re hiding or ran off to Europe or something. They might start looking harder after they win the elections though.”

“ _If_ they win,” Makoto smiled. “We have a few cards up our sleeve.”

“And best of luck to you.”

The detective raised an eyebrow. “You’re… surprisingly polite.”

“Eh, if you’ll brainwash me anyway, I might as well embrace it.” He grimaced, setting his nose. “And besides, after seeing what Shido did to try to stop you from stealing his heart, I promised myself to be gracious in defeat.”

“And what did he do?”

“He killed himself, then had a doctor bring him back to life a moment later. Just for a shot at taking you all down.”

“Huh,” Ryuji muttered. “That explains the ship going down with the captain back then.”

* * *

Shadow Yoshito Nishiyama and the other two goons noticed a group of teenagers approaching them. “The Phantom Thieves, I pre-”

“Shut up,” Joker snarled. “No speeches, no gimmicks, I hit you with a powerful attack, you lose and hand over the Treasure, and we’re calling it a day. How does that sound?”

“Um…”

“ _Megidolaon!_ ”

All three Shadows dropped like flies, without a chance to retaliate. 

“Ugh…” the goon leader groaned, “Fine, sounds good, here's the prize.”

The three disappeared in a white flash. The brunette came over and picked up the Treasure, a model of a subcompact handgun with an attached suppressor.

“Hm,” he inspected it. “Looks nice. I think Goro might like it.”


	17. Other Me Annoys Me

“Feeling good now?” Morgana asked.

“Kinda,” Joker shrugged. The four teens and a cat marched out of Mementos into the real world and blended into the crowd.

“We have managed to stop an immediate threat to Boss, and also received confirmation that locating us isn’t a top priority at the moment,” Yusuke pointed out. “We’re allowed a moment of reprieve.”

“I guess you’re ri-” His phone rang, and he pulled it out and glanced at the screen. “Ichiko.”

“Who?”

“My friend in the press.” He picked up the call. “Wassup?”

“The article’s done,” Ohya said in lieu of a greeting.

The brunette took a moment to process that sentence before blurting out. “…you’re fucking with me.”

“You’re too young and I’m too sober,” the journalist chuckled. “I pulled an all-nighter to finish it, but it’s done, it went past the editors, and it’ll go up tomorrow. And if I can be humble, it’s the best piece of investigative journalism you’ll ever read. And _your help_ made it happen.”

A grin creeped on the brunette’s face. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”

“You’re welcome.” She yawned. “Now excuse me, I’m gonna catch some Zs. Nighty night.”

* * *

Sae, Makoto, Ryuji, Sojiro and Akechi walked out of the hotel. The goons had reassured them that nobody besides the three of them knew about the meeting, but they remained alert and scanned the surroundings for anything suspicious, just in case. They marched towards the car parked in the side alley and got onboard - the prosecutor in the driver’s seat, the president riding shotgun, and the rest in the back.

As the car took off, four people’s phones buzzed. Makoto pulled out hers and read the message. “Ooh, the article to sink Shido will go up tomorrow.”

“Remind me,” Ryuji asked, “if his heart is changed, why are we trying to smear him?”

“To drag his party down by association,” Akechi recapped. “If the UFP wins the elections, the remnants of the conspiracy will gain enough real-life prerogatives to cause tremendous damage even without the Metaverse.”

“All thanks to you,” Sae muttered.

“Really?” The mock shock was palpable. “I wasn’t aware. Thank you for pointing that out, Niijima.”

“It’s just that… I don’t know what you’re expecting to achieve now,” she went on. “Are you really trying to redeem yourself after everything you’ve done?”

“No.” He stared at the window. “Redemption is a story that people want to hear, and _like_ to hear, but it’s just that - a story, one that villains use to lie to themselves and people they victimized. And no matter how many lies you tell, you will always be the thing you were before. You can’t wallpaper over it with an apology and a dark joke.” 

An awkward silence followed, before another message arrived. “Joker wants to meet up near the courthouse,” Makoto read out. 

“Who’s Joker?” Sojiro asked.

“Akira. Or Ren, apparently.” She put away the phone. “What’s the deal with that, by the way?”

“I never asked,” the barista shrugged. “He wants to be called Akira, so I call him Akira. And why the courthouse?”

“Because Jo- Akira thinks this situation is, quote, ‘too anticlimactic for an ending’, so he wants you and my sis to hang out in her Palace long enough to be able to understand Morgana, so that he can be used as a messenger in a pinch.”

“Good idea,” he nodded. “Him typing his side of the conversation on my phone was a pain.”

“…I’m just going to assume you know what you’re doing,” Sae muttered.

Nobody said anything to that for a moment, before Sojiro piped up: “It’s good to see that you’re able to work together with Akechi. A display of maturity on both sides.”

“To his credit, he’s less difficult to cooperate with than we expected,” Makoto pointed out.

“There _was_ an argument about him just gunning down the kidnappers, but he got talked out… of… the idea…” Ryuji added, before realizing he probably shouldn’t have said that with the adults around.

“Gunning down requires a gun,” Sae pointed out, bracing herself for an answer she wouldn’t like.

“Well,” Akechi looked aside, “I used to have one. A suppressed semi-automatic, currently in possession of the Thieves.”

“What would you need a gun for?” Pause. “…I just realized how silly that question was.”

“It wasn’t actually,” Ryuji piped in. “You can use a model gun in the Metaverse like a real thing, Akechi coulda just used one for his wetwork. Hell, when fighting alongside us, he makes do with a toy raygun.”

“I’ve realized that only after I followed you around in the late Okumura’s Palace,” he explained. “Before that, all I knew was what I had tested myself, and shooting a fake gun and hoping it deals real damage sounds like a particularly silly way of commiting suicide by Shadow.”

“Where’s the gun now?” Sojiro asked.

“Well, for now it’s temporarily in the car boot,” Makoto replied. “Unloaded, because Akechi said it has safety issues and fires when dropped.”

“Niijima, you’re in your mid-twenties,” Sae muttered under her breath to nobody in particular. “How come you’re gray already?”

“I can recommend a hair dye,” Ryuji offered.

“Anyway,” the president went on, “initially we kept it where Akechi had left it, in the copy of the interrogation room in sis’s Palace.”

“Nobody besides us and him can access it,” the athlete added. “It’s the perfect hiding spot.”

“ _Almost_ perfect,” Akechi said. “Since, well, I can access it, and one could make an educated guess that it’s still there. I attempted to retrieve it yesterday evening. I was confronted by the others, leading to the argument Ryuji just mentioned.”

Makoto turned to look at the detective in the backseat. “I think we can put the gun back in that room, or somewhere else in the Palace, if you promise to never pull that stunt on us again.”

He crossed his arms. “And how much is my word worth?”

“After we talked you down from the kill-everyone scenario, you went an extra mile to not shoot someone, even by accident,” she pointed out. “It’s worth just enough.”

Akechi didn’t expect that answer. “V-very well then. I… I promise to not a-attempt anything like that without authorization.”

“Without authorization,” Sae repeated.

“From what I’ve noticed, real firearms are much more lethal in the Metaverse than the replicas. I would recommend using what little ammunition remains for sufficient threats.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” the president said.

Nobody said anything interesting for the rest of the trip. Sae parked the car a block away from the courthouse and the five got off. Makoto pulled out the sports bag from the car boot and the group marched into a relatively tucked in corner, away from any bystanders.

“Alright, what now?” the prosecutor asked. 

“I’m taking Boss, Makoto’s taking you, Akechi goes in on his own,” Ryuji outlined, pulling out his phone. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt or anything.”

After double checking for onlookers, the Niijima sisters disappeared, and then so did the athlete and the barista. Akechi took a breath, braced himself and followed them in. Since the courthouse building wasn’t visible from where they were standing, the only change Sae and Sojiro noticed was the detective having his clothes change into the toy soldier uniform.

“What on earth is this?” Sae raised an eyebrow.

“If the ruler of the palace - you, that is - considers someone a threat to them, they appear in a costume not unlike mine.” The detective removed his mask. “The exception is Morgana, who appears in his Metaverse form regardless of the situation.”

“Either that or everyone’s scared of him,” Ryuji joked.

“Can it, Skull!”

“Yeah, right, everyone’s terrified of a…” the prosecutor turned towards the voice, “…what the heck is that?”

The _thing_ in front of her was, admittedly, vaguely cat-shaped. It stood on two legs, and had a large head with cat ears, and stared at her with its big blue eyes. The bandana around its neck was kinda cute.

“Morgana?” Sojiro, by comparison, was completely unfazed. 

“Yep!” He grinned. “Everyone else’s already here, waiting by the casino entrance.”

 _And it talks,_ she thought. “C-casino?”

“Yeah, your Palace is a casino,” Makoto explained. “Slot machines, dice games, everything rigged so the house always wins, the whole package. Come, we’ll show you.”

The group turned a corner, and the adults noticed that the place that used to be the courthouse now looked like something not out of place in Las Vegas, what with the bright lights and gratuitous English. Sae stared dumbfounded at the large neon of Themis towering over them. “Why does she look like a cowgirl?”

“Why are you asking us?” the barista shrugged. “This is in _your_ hea-”

“Sojiro!”

“ _Dad!_ ”

The man barely managed to brace himself for a glomp from Joker and Futaba. The rest of the group - Haru, Ann, Yusuke and Mishima - walked over to them. “Good afternoon, Mr Sakura,” the latter greeted him. “We’re glad to see you alive.”

He returned the hug and smiled. “I’ve noticed.”

“Welcome!” someone announced. “I’m proud to be the host of this reunion.”

Everyone glanced to the side and noticed what looked like a carbon-copy of the prosecutor dressed for a goth-themed formal party.

“Yuuki Mishima, Sojiro Sakura, Sae Niijima,” Yusuke pointed at the relevant people, then at the Shadow, ”Shadow Sae Niijima.”

“I do believe my other self wasn’t introduced to that first one,” She glanced at a dumbstruck Phanboy. “Take a picture, it will last longer.”

Mishima reached for his phone before Haru elbowed him and he recognized the sarcasm.

“What the _fiddlesticks_ is that dress?!” the real Sae blurted out.

“That gives me an idea…” Makoto muttered. 

“If I see you wear anything like that, _I will disinherit you._ ”

She took off the sports bag and pulled out the gun and accessories. “Can you hold onto it for us? Hide it from everyone until I ask you otherwise.”

The Palace ruler smiled. “Anything for my little sister.” She snapped her fingers, and a nondescript Shadow in a suit appeared besides her, took everything from the president, and retreated to the casino.

“This solution means that the firearm is kept away, unable to be retrieved by anyone but me,” she explained to the group. “Everyone trusts me with that role, right?”

She got nods, uh-huhs and one “unconditionally” in response.

“And, should we need to retrieve it, I can always ask either my sister or her Shadow to give it back or hand it over to someone trustworthy.”

“Brilliant idea,” the detective nodded.

“Oh, and now that we’ve dealt with the situation,” Sojiro turned to the group, “what was it about trying to shoot Akechi before?”

Everyone sans Mishima and Sae locked up, and the two just glanced at the crowd, curious. Joker’s hug became noticeably more stiff.

“That was just a dark joke,” the detective attempted to reassure him. “An attempt at affability, to defle-”

“You can’t feed me that line when Makoto just handed over your handgun for safekeeping,” the barista interrupted him. “Look, I just want to know _what_ happened and _why_ , so that maybe I can step in in the future and defuse the situation before it gets _that_ bad.”

A pregnant pause followed. Then, Joker released him, took a step back and started explaining, and the group followed. It was obviously a bit of a mess because of the multiple points of view, and Joker, Haru and Akechi were putting a lot of emphasis on how they specifically were at fault, but Sojiro managed to piece together an accurate depiction of the events.

“Well…” Sojiro glanced at Joker, “do you feel comfortable now, or do you want to leave?”

“I’m fine, I think,” he replied. “Just keep me out of that room.”

He turned to Akechi. “And you?”

“Huh?”

“I think I have a good picture of how you usually react to being held at gunpoint.” He rubbed his eyes. “Jeez, that’s a rare sentence. But yeah, with Haru and that stooge, you were unfazed and dignified, and with Akira you were actively taunting him. That’s concerning.”

“Mr Sakura, if I can ask…” he paused for a moment, trying to figure out a polite turn of phrase before giving up, “…why the heck do you even care?”

“Because you saved my bacon,” he counted on one hand, keeping the other wrapped around Futaba - yes, she was still glued to him, who can blame her? “Because nobody seems to mind that I care. Because I don’t want to leave defusing your issues to Akira and the others. And because _someone_ has to care and I don’t see any other adults around.”

Sae ahemed.

“I have over twenty years on you, you barely stand out from the other kids.”

Once again, the detective found himself out of words, so he decided to stay quiet. 

“Alright then,” Joker spoke up, “since we have absolutely nothing to do for the rest of the day, let’s go back to Ōta and hang around. Order takeaway, watch movies, kick back after a job well done.”

“I’m tagging along,” Sojiro commanded. “I feel I should keep a close eye on all of you.”

“Yay!” the geek hugged him tighter.

“You are always a welcome presence,” Yusuke said.

The prosecutor found herself looking anxiously at the casino building in front of her. “Can I stay behind? I want to take a tour of… this thing.”

“Sure!” Makoto said. “I can be the tour guide.”

“We’ll meet up in the hotel later,” Joker announced. “Text me when you arrive so I’ll let you in.”


	18. Parental Substitute

“Ding, the High Rollers floor,” Makoto said, as she, Sae and her Shadow stepped out of the elevator. “Over there’s the House of Darkness, and over _there_ is the Battle Arena. Do you want to see me in action? You know, get a taste of how the Metaverse battles usually look like.”

“It’s a controlled environment,” Shadow Sae added. “There will be a challenge, but no danger.”

“I really, really don’t want to,” Sae said, “I’m already having nightmares about you not coming back home from all this.”

“You don’t have to worry, really. There were always at least five other folks backing me up.”

“And one murderous psycho,” she scowled.

“Come on, Haru isn’t that bad.”

Judging by the prosecutor (and her Shadow’s) terrified expression, the joke didn’t land. “...you mean there’s _more than one?_ ”

“Okay, in all seriousness,” Makoto showed her palms in a defensive gesture, “Haru _does_ have a minor sadistic streak, but she also has a strong moral code and I trust her with my life. And as for Akechi… well, even with the gun fiasco from yesterday he remains firmly on our side. He’s less problematic than expected.” Beat. “But, you know, I don’t hold a personal grudge against him like Jo- Akira, Haru or Futaba could, to me he was just a smug prick.”

“He tried to kill you in Shido’s Palace!”

“Eh, it _was_ a challenge, but nothing we weren’t ready to take on.” The president grinned sheepishly. “Your Shadow tried to do the same thing to me last month, and I still love you.”

To call that an emotional critical hit would’ve been an understatement. The prosecutor turned to her Shadow. “Could you leave? I want to talk to Makoto in private.”

She looked at her, mildly puzzled. “I'm literally your inner self, I know all your private thoughts.”

“You still make me uncomfortable, please leave.”

“I know what you'd do the moment I left - hug Makoto tightly and tell her-”

“ _Get out!_ ”

“Alright, fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Feel free to call on me when you’re done with sisterly love.” She marched up the stairs and disappeared behind the door leading to the Bridge of Judgement.

“So-urgh!” Makoto expected a hug. She expected air squeezed out of her lungs. She didn’t expect her sister to start quietly sobbing after a moment. “Sae?”

“I’m sorry.” She sniffed. “I’ve been a bad guardian and a bad person.”

“I’ve seen worse, really,” the president patted the prosecutor on the back. “No, I really did, one guy saw all the other people as walking ATMs.” She reached into her pocket. “Do you want a tissue?”

Sae pulled out a single tissue from the pack, wiped off her tears and blew her nose with a rather undignified sound. The two sat down on the stairs leading to the manager’s floor and just sat there in silence for a moment. “Do you think Akechi was right?” Sae finally asked, pulling out a fresh tissue. “That redemption is just a lie and people don’t change?”

“Keep in mind he was talking about redeeming himself, and he hates that guy.” She chuckled at her own joke.

“But we aren’t talking about _him_ , we’re talking about _me,_ ” she countered. “While sitting in some sort of… magical living manifestation of my flaws and issues. How do I even begin to unwrap that?”

“Look,” Makoto put her arm around her shoulder, “I know it’s overwhelming, but a Palace is just a display of a distorted desire - not an end-all proof of you being a bad person.”

“And the fact that five out of six other Palace owners were crime lords, rapists and conspiracy leaders is just a coincidence, isn’t it?”

“The sixth was a teenager unfairly blamed for her mother’s death, unable to deal with her grief,” the president replied. “Yes, you have done questionable things, but there’s nothing preventing you from learning from your mistakes and not repeating them.”

“You’re only saying that because we’re family.” She looked at the floor. “Even after I had called you a burden.”

“Haru and her father were also family, and I can’t imagine that dipstick trying to cheer her up.” Pause. “Do not tell anyone I said that, please.” She pulled her closer. “But seriously, the fact that you acknowledge your errors and want to make amends, starting with getting Akira out of the interrogation room, proves beyond doubt that you can be a good person.”

Sae opened her mouth. 

“Beyond. Doubt.” Makoto interrupted. “I swear, I will hug you to death if you won’t accept that there’s some good in you.”

“And all that without getting your Treasure stolen.”

The two sprung up and raised their guards in perfect sync before realizing it’s only Shadow Sae standing behind them.

“How did you-”

“This is _my_ territory, Makoto.” A cocky smile appeared on her face. “And years of coming back late from work give you a _heck_ of a light step.”

“Didn’t I ask you to get out?” Sae scowled.

“You did, but you also want to leave immediately, and I want to have a word with Makoto before you do.”

The prosecutor glared daggers at her Shadow, before pointing at her own eyes and then at her, and then took a step back, implicitly giving her permission to speak. She turned to the president. “If you remove the Treasure from a Palace, the place disappears, correct?”

“Well, according to Morgana…” 

“The cat?” the two Saes said in unison.

She nodded. “Yeah, the cat. According to him the Treasure needs to be taken the day after the calling card was sent. If it’s still inside by the end of the day, well, the Palace remains standing, as you can see.”

“And what if you took the Treasure after that window?”

Makoto shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“We might as well find out.” The Shadow reached into her pocket and pulled out a platinum poker chip. “I want you to take it.”

She handed it over to Makoto, who inspected it in her hands. “If the Palace goes down, we’ll lose access to the handgun.”

“Truth be told, I don’t think you should have it,” the Shadow admitted. “I was there when you and the others described how it got mishandled twice in two days.”

Makoto thought about it for a moment before putting the chip in her pocket. “Fair. I’ll explain that to the rest of the team if I have to.” She looked at her sister. “You wanted to leave, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, if we can. I don’t feel comfortable here.”

“Allow me to escort you outside.”

The three marched to the elevator, rode down to the ground floor, and marched out of the building. Makoto noted that the Palace didn’t appear to collapse around them - a nice change of pace after the last time - while Sae avoided looking at the dejected cognitions on the way. When outside, the two guests waved to the host, and then one grabbed the other by her hand and they left the Metaverse. 

“That was… an experience,” the prosecutor muttered.

Her sister checked the app. “The Palace is still accessible.” She put her phone back in her pocket and realized that the chip in her pocket turned into something more, for lack of a better word, bendy. She pulled it out and unfolded it. It was a photo of her and Sae, taken on holidays two years earlier, embracing each other with one hand and smiling at the camera. The prosecutor pulled out her wallet and opened it, revealing the exact same photo inside.

Cue a long, silent hug.

* * *

When Makoto was dropped off by her sister near the hotel, she noticed Sojiro and Ryuji going towards the hotel, each carrying a supermarket bag or two.

“See you later,” she waved to Sae, then turned to the two. “Hello again. What are you carrying there?”

“Foodstuffs, mostly,” the athlete replied. “As in, food we’ll stuff in our mouths when watching movies on Futaba’s laptop.”

“Do you want me to carry something?”

“You can take one bag if you wanna.”

The three entered the hotel and marched up to the correct floor. Sojiro opened the door with a borrowed keycard and they got inside the flat. 

“Oh, Makoto’s with you,” Joker half-heartedly waved at the newcomers, as they placed the bags on the kitchenette counter. “Good, everyone’s here and I wanna make a small announcement.” He walked up to the door to Akechi’s bedroom and knocked on it. “Goro, Yusuke, I want you in the living room with everyone.”

The detective and the artist got out. “Why is there strawberry jam on your temple?” Sojiro raised an eyebrow. “And what I hope is a model Glock in your hand.”

“Yusuke asked me to pose for a painting.”

“Working title: ‘Finally at peace’.”

Akechi pointed at the artist. “I swear, this was _his_ idea.”

“Anyway,” Joker spoke up again, “just to explain the name thing to everyone at once: legally, I’m Ren Amamiya. Akira’s a nickname from school back in my hometown, and Kurusu is an alias I give to avoid hearing the same obvious joke whenever I introduce myself.”

After a beat, Ryuji piped up: “Uh, and what’s that obvious joke?”

Joker wearily sighed, then did a chef’s kiss and put on an atrocious Italian accent: “ _Mamma mia, Ren!_ ” A few people didn’t stifle a giggle. “Yeah, go ahead, laugh. It _was_ funny the first time I heard it. The fiftieth time, _not-a so much-a_.”

“Is that all? May Akechi and I return to my art now?”

“The movie’s almost torrented,” Futaba pointed at her laptop. “You can stay and watch with us.”

“With all due respect,” the detective spoke up, “I would rather not get in the way of celebrations. I wouldn’t want to upset people with my presence.”

Mishima looked around. “...is anyone upset at you right now?” Beat, as he glanced at the group. “I mean, they don’t look like it, but _apparently_ they tried to shoot you twice.”

Everyone looked at everyone else, checking the waters, before Joker spoke up “...I mean, you saved Sojiro _and_ took note of our,” air quotes, “‘killing-is-bad spiel’. You’ve got all the reasons to celebrate with us, why would you upset us with your presence?”

“You are welcome among us,” Haru added, “but if you feel uncomfortable in the crowd, you can stay in your room and nobody will judge you for it.”

“Th-thank you. Crow, out,” he saluted, then promptly retreated to his room.

“Can I finish my painting?” Yusuke shouted after him.

“If you keep your mouth shut while doing it,” the detective shouted back.

Mishima raised an eyebrow. “Crow?”

“His Phantom Thief codename,” Joker explained. “You know, how I’m Joker, Ryuji’s Skull, and so on.”

“So, do I get to pick one?” the Phanboy asked. “I mean, I didn’t do much today, but I did _something_.”

“Sure.”

Mishima thought about it for a moment. “How does ‘M’ sound?”

“What does it stand for, Nishima?” Futaba asked, and got a sigh in response.

“So,” Ryuji pointed at the bags on the counter, “who’s gonna unpack the shopping?”

“I can do that,” Joker volunteered. He reached into one of the bags and pulled out a glass bottle. “Um, is that vodka? How did that get in there.” 

“I bought it,” Sojiro spoke up. “You wanted me to talk to Akechi, didn’t you?”


	19. In Vino Veritas / Stealth Pun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: ship sinking, underage drinking, teenage edgelordship

Knock.

Knock knock.

Knock knock knock.

Yusuke peeked from behind the easel and glanced at Akechi, who was doing his best impression of a corpse resting against a wall. “Allow me to remind you that you asked me to remain silent.”

The detective rolled his eyes. “Come in!”

The door opened, and Sojiro entered the room, carrying a glass bottle and two shot glasses in his hands. He glanced at the painting-in-progress - it looked chilling. “Yusuke, could you leave? I wanna talk to the suicidal kid in private.”

“Eh, he can stay.” Akechi shrugged. “I’m eighty percent sure Futaba’s recording everything with my bugged phone anyway.”

“Very well.” The barista put the glasses and the bottle on the desk. “Do you know what a _bruderschaft_ is?”

“Sounds like a bomber plane designation.”

“It’s a European drinking ritual,” Sojiro explained, pouring the alcohol. “Two people drink cross cups to signify that they’re now on a first name basis. More civilized than pointing a loaded gun at someone.”

“And also gets me drunk so that I open up and talk.”

“Yes.”

“You don’t have to do this, Mr Sakura,” Akechi got up from the floor, model gun still in his hand. “Once Shido’s machinations will be revealed to the wider public, I will no doubt be apprehended, tried, and either imprisoned or executed. And until that point, I can just stay out of the way.”

“You’re awfully confident that things will go as you had planned, considering the past week,” Sojiro countered. “And besides, even if I didn’t want to have a conversation with you, Akira and Futaba both insisted that we talk in private.”

“Well, if they want us to do this, let’s skip to the meritum.” Akechi grabbed the bottle with his free hand, and poured its contents into his mouth. The burning in his throat took him by surprise, but he pressed on, gulp after gulp, and then slammed an empty bottle on the desk. “This…” He turned a bit green around the gills. “This might have been a mistake.”

“Should I fetch a bucket or something?”

“Not,” he burped, sitting down on his bed, “not yet.”

The barista glanced at the two shot glasses on the desk. “Very well then,” he took a sip from his and sat down on the free chair. “Yusuke, do you want what’s left?”

“I’ll pass for now.”

“Okay then,” Sojiro turned to Akechi. “is there anything in particular you want to talk about, Goro?”

“If slash when I end up on death row, can I have your curry for my last meal?”

“If it can be arranged, sure.”

The detective, not expecting a serious answer, felt like someone pulled a rug from underneath him. “Um, that’s… thank you, sir.”

“Call me Sojiro,” he corrected. An awkward pause followed. Since the detective appeared to have run out of topics, he said: “I’m curious about something. You do not have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Ooh, a curveball,” Akechi flashed a cocky smile. “Go on.”

“At any moment, did you ever consider taking the kidnappers’ offer?”

“No.”

“Hm.” The barista raised an eyebrow. “Mind elaborating?”

“All of the risk of my past wetwork with no protection from consequences. Also, I had a hunch that they’d screw me over for no reason, even if I complied. A hunch they were kind enough to confirm when I told them something they didn’t want to hear,” the detective went on. “Also, considering I was wearing a bug the whole time and had three competent fighters waiting outside, do you really think I would be able to just… get out there and go and kill Jo-, erm, Akire-, uh, Akira?”

“You also appreciate our companionship,” Yusuke added, with a faint smile on his face.

“Well, y-yeah, but… but if I said that, would you believe me?”

“Probably,” Sojiro replied. “I mean, I had talked to the others, and the overall sentiment was ‘he’s trying’. Even the second gun debacle looked like you were trying to help in your own misguided way. Am I right?”

“Um…” Beat. “Moving on, just to give definite proof that I was on your side the whole time…”

“Nobody is doubting that now.”

“If I considered another betrayal for even a moment, I would’ve pointed out that killing Futaba would’ve been more damaging to the group. The Thieves would’ve managed without Akira’s charisma, connections and combat versatility, but not without her absurdly broad knowledge of technology.”

Without missing a beat, Sojiro emptied his shot glass.

“…this sounded more complement-y in my head. But yeah, Futaba’s great. She helped me get the kompromats on Shido that’ll go up tomorrow, and she…” He lowered his head. “And she also told me to, quote, ‘stick around’ and not get myself killed. Because, quote, ‘things might get better’.” Pause. “Disclaimer: she told me that after I gave her a knife and asked her to kill me with it.”

“Why nobody had sent you to a psychologist at any point is beyond me,” Sojiro sighed. “Are you two getting along now?”

Beat, followed by Akechi pulling out a phone and dialling a number. After a moment, Futaba opened the door. “You called, Rootkit?”

“I did,” he put away his phone. “Are we two getting along now?”

“Hm.” A pause followed, as the three men awaited her reaction. “You know, when you delete a file, you don’t overwrite the data by default. You just tell the system that hey, you can write things there now, and you can get the file back with some tools if you try.” She closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. “It still stings, you know? How I’ll never get to tell my mom about my day and how she’ll never pat me on the head after I do something right.”

Akechi lowered his head, ashamed. 

“But, well,” she opened her eyes, “you saved my dad from a bunch of jerks that tried to hurt him. And you’re a better person than you were last week, and by induction you’re going to be a better person a week later, and a week after that and… you get the idea.” Another pause. “So, let’s take all my complicated feelings, cast them to a boolean, and say ‘yes, we two are getting along now’.” After a bit, sorry, a beat, she opened her arms. “Bastard hug?”

The detective braced himself. “…bastard hug.”

Cue a bastard hug. Sojiro stared at his daughter, in awe of how far she had come over the past few months, and shed a single proud tear.

“Do you require a tissue, Boss?”

“No, no, just got something in my eye,” he lied.

The geek released the detective. “Can I still call you Rootkit?”

“ _You_ can call me anything you want, but Rootkit is alright,” he replied, smiling. “As I said, it’s clever and personalized.”

“Good.” She smiled back and moved towards the door. “I’m gonna go back to the group, feel free to join us when you’re done.”

She left the room, closing the door behind 

“It’s good that you’re on speaking terms, but I’m drawing a line in the sand:” Sojiro crossed his arms, “she’s off-limits dating-wise.”

“It never crossed my mind,” the detective reassured. “Truth be told, I don’t think I’m attracted to women to begin with.”

“Akira is also off-limits.”

“…I’m not attracted to men either. I think,” he said, unsure. “I’m looking back at the past few years and can’t remember finding myself looking at someone, male or female, and feeling lust.”

“You’re asexual then?” Yusuke asked.

The detective looked at him like a zit had just materialized on his forehead. “Ay-what now?”

“Asexual,” the artist explained, “‘A-’ meaning negation or absence and-”

“ _There’s a word for that?_ ”

“Of course there is,” Yusuke said. “I am assuming you didn’t receive proper education in that matter.”

“I didn’t receive _any_. I learned that same-sex attraction is a thing after someone had forwarded some…” Akechi shuddered, “ _unprompted fanart_ to me.” 

“Do I need to point out there’s no shame in feeling no sexual attraction?” the artist added. “And no one will judge you for not being heterosexual, you’re the fourth team member that designates himself as such.”

“Akira and Futaba are two,” Sojiro piped up, “and who’s the third? If they’re out of the closet and fine with me knowing, obviously.”

Yusuke smiled. “Me.”

“And if I can ask, you are…”

“Unconstrained by labels. Beauty is beauty.”

“Can we _please_ change the topic?” Akechi asked. “I’d rather talk about literally anything else.”

“Like what?” the barista asked.

Beat, as the detective’s mind scrambled for something, before he remembered about the model Glock in his hand. “Guns! They’re cool.” He pointed it away from the other two. “Pew pew pew!” A faint smile appeared on his face.

Sojiro just looked at him. “The more time I spend with you, the less I see the man that took away Wakaba and tried to take away Akira, and the more I see a disturbed kid failed by every adult he had met in his brief life.”

“Oh yeah, let’s focus on how the hatchet man’s sad,” he rolled his eyes, putting the model gun away. “I mean, yeah, killing people is bad, but do you know how hard it is to wash off all the blood from the clothes?”

“Did you use cold water?”

Akechi stared at him for a moment. “That was a metaphor,” he explained. “Shadows do not bleed.”

“What was it a metaphor for?”

“For focusing on bad things happening to a bad guy, as if he didn’t deserve…” he paused, expecting Morgana or Futaba to materialize from thin air to bite him. “…if he didn’t deserve it all.”

Yusuke put away his brush. “So, after a person crosses a line - let’s not focus on _where_ that line should be placed for now - they do not deserve any form of mercy, politeness, or humane treatment. Do I understand you correctly?”

Akechi gave him a confident stare. “Yes, you do.”

“Hm.” The artist put on a faint smile. “That reminds me of one of Madarame’s former pupils. He had blackmailed someone into posing for a nude painting.”

“Wow,” the detective muttered.

“Wasn’t Madarame an abusive credit-stealing prick?” Sojiro pointed out.

Akechi looked at him with disdain. “Are you seriously _excusing_ that bastard?”

“Of course not,” he replied. “Merely acknowledging how someone can fall so low with no proper role models.” He turned to Yusuke. “That kid was your age, wasn’t he?”

“More or less.”

“Bull-fucking-shit,” Akechi spat. “Yusuke was raised in the _exact same surroundings_ and came out with a functioning moral compass. That asshole has no excuse.”

“I need to introduce you to him at some point.” The artist was mildly amused that the detective didn’t spot the obvious twist. Maybe it’s the glass of pure ethanol in his system. “On second thought, I’ll do so now.” He outstretched his hand. “Hello, I’m that a-hole. Can I call you Goro?”

“Uh…” Akechi was taken aback. “Er, I mean…” He raised his hands defensively. “Okay, look, you’ve made mistakes, but at least _yours_ didn’t end up with people killed.”

“Is that where the line is now?” Yusuke looked at him with a faux-innocent expression. “Murder or manslaughter?”

“Yes!”

“Akira is beyond redemption then. And, if we count intent, so are Har-”

“ _It was a_ fucking _accident!_ ” The detective sprung up from the bed and swayed just a little bit before steadying. “What point are you trying to make now, Kitagawa?”

"The point is,” the artist remained calm, “morality is neither a matter of black or white, nor carved in stone, never to be changed without Phantom Thief shenanigans.”

“Honestly,” Sojiro spoke up, “if the choice is between admitting you can be a better person after all you’ve done or claiming everyone past a certain line is irredeemable, no exceptions, I’m picking option one.”

“Oh, really?” Akechi turned confrontational, to the barista’s utter indifference. “What would the late Mrs Isshiki say to that, huh?”

“I have no clue,” he shrugged. “But her daughter has a cute nickname for you and I trust her judgement.”

A weird, one-sided staredown followed, as the detective found himself irritated by how _patient_ Sojiro was. Not a single wrinkle on his face suggested he was upset with him.

“Can I ask you another question?” Sojiro finally said.

“No,” Akechi growled. “Get out of my room.”

“Okay.” He wordlessly grabbed the empty bottle and his shot glass. “You sure you don’t want what’s left, Yusuke?”

The detective’s expression softened noticeably. “Wait, you’re actually leaving the room?”

“You asked,” Sojiro said, getting up. “And trying to get to you right now isn’t the best idea. I should’ve done this with less alcohol. Feel free to approach me later if you’ll want to talk again.”

“Um…” Akechi looked aside. “…o-on second thought, we can continue the conversation.”

The barista put the bottle and shot glass back on the desk. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to force yourself to do this.”

And then the dam burst. “No. I’m not sure. I’m not sure of _anything_ at this point. I’m not sure if I’m regretful or if I’m just mad at myself for losing on the last stretch. I’m not sure if I prefer your current patience over being dragged over the coals over my fuck-ups. And I’m not sure if I shouldn’t just, I’unno, throw myself under a subway train during rush hour as a last middle finger to society _._ ”

He took a deep breath, as Sojiro sat back down on the chair. “I’m going to ask for your tie, belt and shoelaces.”

Akechi reached for his waist. “The tie stays. Take my word for it, it’s not strong enough to hang yourself on,” he said, unbuckling and pulling out his belt. “It would be like,” he grabbed the end of the tie and mimicked hanging himself, then let out a “Trrrrr!”, trying to sound like ripping fabric, and allowed himself to fall to the floor. The artist covered his mouth and almost stifled a giggle. “You’re allowed to laugh, Yusuke.” He sat up and started removing his shoelaces. “I still don’t understand why all of you care.”

“Let me turn this around:” the barista said, “why would we _not_ care? What’s the alternative?”

“Schadenfreude. Satisfaction from my suffering.”

“How much satisfaction would we earn from the suffering of someone in your position?” Yusuke pointed out. “Maybe if you had kept your disproportionally high opinion of yourself…”

“Eat as much, heh, crow as I did over the past few days and _then_ try to have a high opinion about yourself.” Akechi handed over his shoelaces to Sojiro. “You’ve said you have a question, what was it?”

“You seem to believe you’re past redemption, unable to fix what you’ve broken.”

Akechi nodded.

“And yet, you aren’t idly waiting for your demise. Breaking into Shido’s office and putting yourself at risk to save me, something I… can’t thank you enough for, sounds pointless with that mindset. And talking down Haru from shooting you seems to go against your obvious death wish.” 

“The first thing was just for my personal vendetta,” he explained, “the second was making sure that Futaba doesn’t lose a second parent to my bullshit, and the third… _I_ deserve to die, _she_ doesn’t deserve to have my death on her conscience.” Pause. “On a more general level, I don’t want to just sit on my hands while the Thieves do all the heavy lifting, you know? If I’m still alive and sane-ish, I might as well help them fight back. For their sake, not mine.”

After a pause, Sojiro said “They really did the right thing by giving you a second chance, Goro.”

“Let’s agree to disagree,” he replied.

“In hindsight,” Yusuke rejoined the conversation, “you have proven to be a valuable and loyal asset.”

“In hindsight,” Akechi repeated. 

“Yes. We were and still are completely aware that, with you having no Shadow to defeat or Palace to infiltrate, a second chance for you was a risk.”

“And yet you dragged me out.”

“Because there’s something abhorrent about compromising our values because it’s an inconvenience or because the victim,” cue air quotes, “‘deserved it’.”

“Nobody would’ve held it against you if you left me behind. Hell, nobody would’ve _known_.”

“We would.” The artist paused for a moment, before picking up the full shot glass. “If, at any point, Madarame decided that he wants me destroyed, because I’m not useful to him anymore, or because he had a whim… do you think anyone would notice or care?”

The artist drank the vodka and grimaced. The detective found himself relating to him, which worried him immensely. “Do you- do you want a hug or something?”

“It’s not necessary, but thank you.” Yusuke smiled. “Get up from the floor and let’s rejoin the others.”

“I don’t know if I should.” Leaning against his bed, he got up from the floor. “If I’ve earned the right.”

“They were pretty explicit that you did,” Sojiro pointed out. “Just don’t ask Haru what her father would say to that.” 

“…I’m sorry for that, by the way.”

“Apology accepted, now get out there.”

The detective took a breath, grabbed his trousers to stop them from falling, and marched out of his room and into the living room, followed by the artist and the barista. Everyone sitting on or around the couch turned to him.

“I… If I may…” he stammered out.

Futaba tapped the spacebar to pause the movie. “Yeah? What is it, Rootkit?”

“I just… I wanted to ask if I…” His face turned a bit green, “…be back in a bit.”

He spun around and promptly marched to the toilet. Muffled sounds of alcohol-fueled stress vomiting followed. Then, flushing, hand washing, and he walked back out. “So, um… first name basis, everyone?”

“Does that include the narrator?” Joker asked.

“Um, yeah, sure,” ~~Akechi~~ Goro shrugged, then sat down on the floor next to the couch. “Feel free to unpause the movie, I will try to catch up.”

“Just one thing.” Futaba turned to Sojiro, “Dad, if Rootkit can get drunk on vodka, can everyone else get some booze too?”

“I’d be fine with that, but I don’t think I can afford any more alcohol out of my own pocket.” 

In response, Joker pulled out his wallet and tossed it at the barista. He opened it and glanced inside. 

“…okay, but only one can or glass per person. Most of you have school tomorrow.”

* * *

Deep down the collective consciousness, a god was sitting by his desk, pondering the current situation.

The Trickster has managed to remain alive and afloat, continue fighting against the corrupt people in power, defeat the opposite Wild Card, and _inexplicably_ earn his loyalty.

That couldn’t be. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The people clearly didn’t want this. They were too terrified to accept any disruption to the order. If they weren’t, the god wouldn’t be around to have those thoughts in the first place.

They simply needed a small nudge to realize it. It wasn’t cheating.


	20. In Spite of a Nail

You know how some people don’t get hangovers? Goro wasn’t one of these people.

It was daylight outside when he woke up with a headache, a dry throat, and a vague sense of dread. He crawled out of his bed and room, towards the kitchenette sink. After downing a glass of tap water and allowing his mind to refocus, he marched back to the corridor and barged into Joker’s bedroom. The brunette had his hands under the duvet for some reason. 

“Ever heard of knocking?”

The detective ignored the question. “Sojiro went back to Yongen, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, late evening, after everyone left. Quote, ‘to lie if someone comes to Leblanc and asks about the Thieves’. He stressed you can still talk to him if you wanna and if there’ll be an opportunity.”

“How considerate of him.” Pause. “Since I’m up, pancakes for everyone?”

“Yeah, sure, now get out.”

“Yeah, you can go back to sleep.” Goro closed the door behind himself, and Akira wondered if he was blissfully unaware or just too hungover to pay attention. His phone buzzed. With the mood completely dead, he gave up and checked the notifications. One message on the PT chat, from “Panther”. _Did I wake you up?_

 _No,_ Joker wrote back. _Did something happen?_

_Kinda. Something bugs me._

_Really? What is it?_

_I’ve read that article. I even bought a dead-tree newspaper for it._

_And?_

The _Panther is typing_ … notification has lingered on the screen for a moment. _It’s great. It’s punchy. It’s damning. It’s well-documented. There are even links to the sources so people can see them for themselves and make their own judgment._

Joker smiled, content. _Yeah, Crow, Oracle and my press contact all did a wonderful job._

 _But nobody seems to have noticed. You’re holed up and you don’t see it, but people aren’t talking about it. This should’ve been BIG. Make a splash. Be the only thing people talk about on the streets. But few people do, and none of them think it’s_ that _bad._

The door to the room was opened again, then Goro caught himself, closed it, and banged on it three times. Joker typed _BRB_ and shouted “Come in!”

The detective marched in, grabbed the brunette by the wrist, and forcefully dragged him out of the room. He barely had the time to pull his pants back up with his free hand. Goro threw Joker on the couch, waking up Morgana sleeping on it in the process, and started fiddling with the remote control to rewind whatever was on the news channel at the time.

“Um…”

“Shut up and listen to this.” 

He pressed ‘play’ and the two plus the cat watched a pundit talk to an interviewer: “-lies published in that _foreign-owned_ rag are an attempt to undermine the Japanese state, the Japanese _nation_.” The guy let out a weary sigh. “We _need_ to ask an important question: are we willing to risk chaos by allowing provocateurs and wannabe revolutionaries to stop the United Future Party from winning the elections?”

“Well phrased, sir,” the host nodded. “I’m sure our viewers at home know the answer.”

Goro found himself unable to comment and just quietly gestured at the TV with a befuddled expression. 

“What the heck…” the cat muttered, confused.

“One talking head on a morning show,” Joker shrugged. “I mean, it’s drivel, it might convince whoever’s watching it, but it doesn’t worry me _that_ much. There are other media.”

Cue Futaba walking out of her bedroom with her laptop in her hands. “Guys?” she asked, loudly.

“We’re in the main room!” Joker shouted back.

The geek trotted up to them and placed her laptop on the table, screen towards the boys. “I’ve been watching how the internet reacts to our article so far. Most comments aren’t reassuring.”

“That’s not really shocking,” Goro pointed out. “The internet is a cesspool.”

“It is, but not like that.” She alt-tabbed to a text document. “I’ve collected reactions from various sites, removed obvious duplicates, and put them through a text analyzer. Long story short, a lot of people aren’t convinced, and a lot of others think he’s still better than the current government.”

“Cretins,” the detective spat.

“Hm.” Joker found himself being _slightly_ concerned about this. “Morgana, mind taking a trip to Yongen and back? Keep Sojiro up to speed and listen to the public on your way the-”

And then all three phones in the rooms buzzed in sync, as “M” sent a message to the group chat.

_guys this is bad_

_i just got this message on the phansite_

After a moment needed to copy and paste it on the phone, it arrived to everyone:

_Ren, or whatever your name is,_

_I don’t know if that article was your job, but the higher-ups think it was, and you and your little high school club moved to the top of the ‘things to deal with’ list. On top of running damage control in the media, they’re starting to look harder for you. In a day or two, your mug will be on every screen, billboard, and milk carton in the country. This will sound like a threat, but it’s only a polite suggestion: run. Get a fake passport, apply for asylum, buy a dinghy, anything. Don’t let them catch you, because this time they’ll make sure you leave behind a corpse._

_Good luck,_

_the guy with an empty gun._

Below that, an eloquent comment from the Phanboy: _tldr_ _were boned_

“Do you have any idea who could’ve written that message?” the cat piped up.

“The signature would suggest one of the guys that had kidnapped Sojiro,” Goro replied. “He had tried to shoot me in a last act of defiance, but I had unloaded his pistol earlier.”

Cue an awkward pause, finally broken by Joker: “…we never thanked you for saving him, did we?”

“There is no need to.” Pause. “Seriously, don’t thank me, this is all my fault one way or another.”

The three phones in the room buzzed - another message on the group chat. _What now?_ Makoto asked.

Goro typed: _What the guy suggested. We need to get the hell out of dodge._

Nobody responded to that at first, before Ryuji went: _So what, we’re just giving up?!_

 _Allow me to spell this out for you, Skull:,_ the detective replied, _even if the article gets enough traction to drag down Shido’s (and his party’s) public image in the next few days, Joker’s about to become Japan’s Most Wanted, possibly followed by the rest of the group and/or me._ Sigh. _As much as it pains me to say it, the Phantom Thieves lost._

“And you want to run too?” Morgana asked.

“Will you let me stay and take the fall for everything?”

“Nope,” Joker replied.

 _Unfortunately, Crow is right,_ Makoto typed. _We need to cut our losses._

 _Can we talk about this later?_ Ann typed. _The teacher’s giving me odd looks and I hope it’s because of the phone._

Joker pulled out his phone. _Let's meet up after school. I’ll try and come up with another plan in the meantime,_ he wrote. “This can’t be it,” he said out loud. “This can’t be how this ends, with me running away with my tail between my legs. I can’t leave this country at the mercy of whatever prick’s currently at the helm.”

“Joke…” Goro paused. “…can I call you Akira?”

“All of you can if you wanna.”

“Very well then.” Inhale. “Akira, I understand that you want to save everyone,” he pointed at himself, “no matter how much they do not deserve a second- _ow!_ ” The detective glanced at Morgana biting his hand, _again._ “The cat bites are getting tiring, you know?” 

“So’s your constant self-deprecation, Rootkit, so,” Futaba stuck her tongue out.

Goro stuck his own tongue at her in response, before going on, “But yeah, you want to be a hero, I get it, but this situation is beyond whatever the group can do to fix it.” He shook the cat off.

“We could figure out who’s leading the conspiracy now and change their heart.” Joker crossed his arms in defiance. “I have an extensive network of confidants and the best hacker on this hemisphere on my side.”

“And a metric ton of data from your infiltration and my follow-up,” the geek added. 

“What we don’t have is _time._ ” The detective got up from the couch and started pacing around the room. “And even if we figure out the current leader’s identity and steal their hearts in the next twenty-four hours, they will in turn be replaced by someone else, just like Shido was. And besides, at this point the problem isn’t just the conspiracy, there’s also a matter of the _goddamn morons_ that will probably elect them at the end of the week, and we can’t do much about _that_.”

“Or can we?”

Goro froze mid-step, took a moment to process the implication, and then turned to Morgana. “Elaborate.”

“From what we’ve seen, the people _desire_ to put Shido and his party in power despite knowing about some of his crimes.” The cat looked at Goro with his big, blue eyes. “Would you call that desire… distorted?”

“What are you getting at? Like, is there supposed to be a Palace of the whole huma…” The realization hit him. “…Mementos.”

“Exactly. We could try to get to the bottom of it and steal its Treasure.”

“But if it works like a normal Palace, won’t it delete itself after we do that?” Futaba pointed out. 

“That’s just an added bonus at this point,” Goro said. “Ensuring no mentally unstable bastard with daddy issues can do as much damage as I did.”

“And that the Phantom Thieves can’t help people anymore.” 

The detective shot the brunette a glare. “And how much good will you do when you _commit suicide in police custody again, you dense mother-_ ” He caught himself and sighed. “Look, Akira… let me get something straight: I am scared. Not that they will win, because the imbeciles that will vote them in deserve whatever’s coming, but that you desperately fixing _my_ fuck-ups will end with you dead or imprisoned. I won’t allow it, understand? _I will not!_ ”

“Calm down. We still have a few hours before the meeting to think about our options,” Joker got up from the couch. “For now, Morgana, go to Yongen to fill in Sojiro and listen to people on the streets.”

“Got it.”

“Futaba, go through all the data and try to get some complete names of people that could be currently leading the conspiracy.”

“Make sure they…” Goro looked aside, “you know, didn’t die recently.”

“Acknowledged.” 

Joker tapped his phone’s screen. “I’m gonna get in touch with a friend and ask him if he knows someone that can forge a passport or eight on short notice. Just in case.”

“Is there anything _I_ can do to help?”

The brunette looked at the detective. “How about those pancakes you promised?”

* * *

Makoto was the last one to arrive. 

“Come in, we’re waiting for you,” Joker invited her. “I’m surprised you didn’t come with the rest of the Shujin folks.”

“I had some student council stuff to deal with.” She sat by the table alongside the others. Judging by the used plates and cutlery in front of them, they all had their fill and she could help herself to all the remaining pancakes. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ve felt worse this week. At least I didn’t shoot anyone this time.”

“Again,” Goro growled, “it was _an accident._ ” Pause. “And besides, I had it coming. Still have, honestly.”

“Back on topic:” Ann spoke up, “do we have a plan or do we start packing?”

“Something… vaguely plan-shaped.” Joker leaned against a wall. “Based on Futaba and Morgana’s observations, the heart of humanity as a whole got distorted, so we could go to the bottom of Mementos and try to steal its Treasure - with the side effect of taking it down for good.”

“Do we have any alternatives?”

“I’ve gone through the data for names of any other high-level conspiracy members, to find a more precise target,” Futaba said, “but there’s at least ten of them, and we have no guarantee that changing their hearts will freeze the clock on Joker’s arrest.”

“Okay, let’s put it to a vote,” the brunette commanded. “Who wants us to go to the Mementos depths and end it all?”

He raised his hand, and so did everyone in the room - with the exception of Morgana, who raised a front paw. 

“So, it is decided.” The brunette sighed. “This whole heart-stealing business went off the rails a long time ago.”

After a pregnant pause, Ryuji asked, morbidly curious: “Do you regret this?”

He took a moment to think of an answer. “No. At least not as a whole. I only regret two things about it.”

“What’s the second?” the detective asked.

“What’s the _first_?” Morgana corrected.

Joker and Goro’s eyes met. “You tipped your hand _months_ ago,” the brunette said, pointing at him. “Morgana said 'this building looks like a stack of pancakes' and you were like 'pancakes!'.”

The detective took a moment to process that, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fucking hell, how did I last so long if I was so _careless?_ ”

“Back then I didn't want to speak up,” Joker went on. “I assumed you're just a hypocrite, using Metaverse to get confessions out of Shadows that you later justify retroactively in the real world.” Sigh. “If I had opened my mouth, looked into your activities, done _anything,_ I could've saved a few lives and stopped this before it escalated as far as it did.” Pause, glance in a different direction. “I'm sorry, everyone. You in particular, Haru.”

Goro scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Do you really believe you could've gotten through to me?”

Makoto swallowed a large pancake chunk. “If, as you claimed, people don't change - and neither did you, by implication - then yes, we could. Like we got through a week ago.”

“Um… er, i-it’s not the same thing…”

Yusuke cracked a faint smile. “Don’t strain yourself moving those goalposts again.” The detective gave him the finger, to his amusement.

“And what’s the second regret?” Ryuji asked.

Exhale. “Dragging you all into this mess.”

Makoto audibly put away the knife and fork and stood up. “I believe I’m speaking for everyone present: everyone in this room is here because they want to do the right thing, _and_ would’ve stayed here even without the sword of Damocles hanging over their heads.”

“Preach, Queen,” the athlete remarked.

“You didn’t,” air quotes, “‘drag us into this mess’,” she went on, “we made a conscious decision to keep fighting for justice.” She gestured at the others. “Does anyone present in this room regret their actions up to this point?” One person raised his hand. “Anyone besides Goro?”

“I just want to be clear: I regret _not joining you sooner_.”

The president turned to Joker. “The defense rests.” She sat back down.

That was a confidence boost the leader needed. “Very well then.” He put on a cocky grin. “The Phantom Thieves of Hearts, going out with a bang. And if that doesn’t work, I’m paying for everyone’s fake passports.”

“And speaking of a bang…” Goro said.

* * *

Shadow Sae looked concerned. “Do you really need it?”

“We aren’t sure,” Makoto said.

“But we would rather not risk lacking it if it turns out necessary,” Goro added. The two split away from the group and stopped by the Palace for a brief moment. 

With a worried sigh, the Shadow snapped her fingers and a lackey materialized next to her, carrying Goro’s handgun and accessories on a blood-red pillow. The president put on gloves borrowed from Joker, grabbed the unloaded gun, and put it into her coat. The detective did the same with the magazines.

“We’ll be careful with it, I promise,” Makoto reassured.

“If I understand correctly, if your operation succeeds, you won’t be able to see this side of me ever again.” Sae said.

“Correct.”

“I guess I’ll better verbalize some thoughts the real-world me won’t be brave enough for.” She looked Makoto in the eyes and smiled softly. “Your idealism is inspiring, and I hope that society won’t beat it out of you. Good luck.”

The president smiled. “Thank you.”

The Shadow turned to Goro and her expression turned sour on a dime. “And you…”

“I am aware th- _ow!_ ”

The detective was interrupted by a painful kick to the ankle. “ _Fuck you,_ you hypocritical homicidal _cunt._ ” She kicked him again for good measure. “I’ll say it again: if something happens to Makoto or her friends, in this world or another, _I will end you._ Now, get out of my Palace.”

Goro pulled out his phone and returned to the real world. Makoto made her goodbyes and promptly followed. 

“I’m sorry for her behaviour,” she turned to the detective. “How hard did she kick you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he hissed. “I’ll just… limp a bit in Mementos today.” 


	21. The Stations of the Canon

Makoto and Goro entered the Mementos. The rest of the team was waiting just by the entrance.

“What’s with the limp?” Joker asked.

“A parting gift from the older Niijima’s Shadow,” the detective growled. “It shouldn’t hinder me too much in combat.”

“Did she give you back the gun?”

The president displayed the unloaded pistol to the group. 

“Good.” The brunette glanced at the detective. “For the record, Crow: you not getting it back isn’t a matter of trust, it’s a matter of not giving a gun to a suicidal guy. If we’ll have to use it, you’ll at the very least get to weigh in on the technique.”

“Speaking of,” Ann said, pulling out her model SMG, “this is the last chance you’ll get to show me how to fire that thing _properly,_ so go ahead, I’m watching.”

Goro took the model from her and carefully inspected it. “Follow me downstairs, please.”

The Thieves all marched down to the topmost level of Mementos proper. The detective pulled out the retractable stock, slapped the charging handle into place, and took aim towards the far end of the tunnel. “Now, I’ve never fired an _actual_ SMG, this is based on internet videos…” He braced himself and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. “Hm.”

“Can I try?” 

Goro handed over the gun back to Ann and she mimicked his stance before pulling the trigger. It fired on full-auto with no problems.

“Now that’s just…” Something clicked in his head and he glanced at the side of the gun to check his guess. “The fire selector’s on ‘safe’!”

“What?” 

“There’s a small switch on the side, and it’s set to _0_.” Goro allowed himself to move it to _1_. “Try it now.”

Ann fired a single bullet. Then, she thumbed the selector to _3_ and fired a short burst. Then, she switched it to _30_ and emptied the magazine. “Neat. Firing one-handed looks cooler though.”

“You know what’s even cooler?” the detective shot her a glare. “Hitting your bloody targets.”

“I guess Crow’s experience with actual guns influences how our models operate in his hands,” Morgana remarked.

“Does that mean we’ve gotta worry about those things firing when dropped?” Ryuji asked.

“From what I’ve gathered,” the detective replied, “most modern firearms have precautions against such things and my handgun’s just faulty. In short, probably not-”

In response, the athlete pointed the shotgun away from the group and pointedly dropped it on the ground. Nothing happened.

“-but let’s not test that if we don’t have to,” Goro glared at him.

“Okay, that covers _Gun Safety with Crow_ , I guess,” Joker spoke up. “Forward team is me, him, Mona and Panther. Let’s roll out.”

The cat turned into a car and took off with the Thieves onboard. “So, you’re a gun nut, huh?” Ryuji asked.

“Kind of,” Goro said. “I took interest in the topic after they gave me a firearm, to figure out why attaching a suppressor didn’t suppress the sound, and found myself _fascinated_. Not even in a ‘oooh I can kill people faster’ way, modern firearms are compelling from an engineering standpoint. Hundreds of years of improvements, specialization and standardization to propel the projectiles adjusted to your needs as fast and as frequently as necessa-'' He cut himself short. “I sound creepy now, don’t I?”

“You sound like someone talking about a topic they’re passionate about,” Makoto shrugged. “And besides, you’re not the only person with a quirk in this car.”

“As long as you refrain from using incomprehensible firearm lingo in normal conversations, I fail to see the problem.” Yusuke added, then shot a brief glare at Futaba.

After a pause, Haru asked, curious, “…so, why was the gun loud even with a silencer on?”

“The bullet was breaking the sound barrier. You need ammunition that doesn’t go above the speed of sound or some fancy suppressor that slows it down.”

Makoto gave him a glance. “There are suppressors like that?”

“I’ve seen one on a German submachine gun.”

“Path of Sheriruth, Area 13,” Joker mimicked a subway announcer, as the Morganacar took a turn into a dead end with a platform in it. “This car terminates here, we wish you pleasant further travels.”

The group got off, Morgana shifted back into his cat form, and everyone marched downstairs. Area 14 consisted of a single island platform, closed off from the other end with an elaborate black door decorated in red. Subway trains were speeding along on all the tracks surrounding the platform. You know how this location looks - if you don’t, spoiler alert, don’t waste money on equipment for Goro.

The gate opened on its own after Joker touched it, revealing a staircase (or an inoperational escalator) leading downwards. Hesitantly, they marched down it. It led to something that could be best described as a terminus - multiple platforms on as many layers, each with a subway train parked next to it and the human-looking silhouettes exiting it and marching towards whatever was on the other side of another wall slash gate moving out of the Thieves’ way. The group was ready to go through before Futaba stopped them: 

“Hold on.” Her flying saucer Persona appeared around her and floated a bit above the platform. “The door only opens from this side.”

“What do you mean?” Ann asked.

“Well, I took a quick peek at the mechanism inside the door and it looks like you can only open it from here.” She dismissed the Persona and landed on the ground. “We can get in, but nothing can get out.”

“A point of no return, huh?” Joker turned to the group. “Last chance to back down. Nobody will hold it against you if you bail now.”

“Without exaggeration,” Yusuke said, “I am convinced everyone present will follow you to the ends of the earth.”

“That’s what I worry about,” he sighed. “Alright, let’s move out.”

The group marched through and found themselves standing on a ledge on an inner wall of a gargantuan cylindrical chamber. In the middle of it was an enormous bundle of dark-red… pipes? Cables? Veins? Whatever they were, they were connected to the walls of the chamber and they were rhythmically pulsating in unison, as if to transfer something to the lower levels. Joker noticed that there was no Velvet Room entrance that had been present in every previous Palace’s entry area, but didn’t think too much of it - it was a unique scenario, he didn’t expect things to follow the usual formula.

A crowd of Shadows was standing in front of _yet another_ gate, and that one didn’t open when the Thieves approached it, but that wasn’t a problem - it wasn’t the first time they had to find a side entrance. After a moment of poking around they managed to find a large enough open window and get inside.

Sneaking down the only path leading forward, the group started wondering _what_ the palace was supposed to be. The previous seven each had a theme that was apparent from the get-go, and this one just had a bunch of creepy red patterns on black cubes. Helpfully, the very next room has revealed beyond doubt where they were.

It was a prison.

In front of them was a large cell, separated from the rest of the room with thick black bars. Behind them were Shadows, murmuring about something.

“What on Earth…” Joker mumbled to himself.

“Should we, uh,” Ryuji stared at the scene before him, unsure, “should we release them or something?”

“No!” one of the Shadows protested. “We want to _stay here!_ ”

“C’mon, don’t be out there and come on in,” another Shadow invited.

“I don’t see any cell doors,” Joker muttered. “Let’s just move along, before-”

“Hm?”

The group turned towards the voice and noticed a Shadow, more humanoid than human-looking, dressed like a security guard. 

“Why are you out and about?” he said. “Where are your restraints?”

“…before something like this happens, I suppose,” the leader finished, pulling out his knife.

* * *

The fight - and every subsequent one, while we’re at it - was too brief to warrant a description. The Thieves pushed onward, with the puzzles being more of a problem than the skirmishes.

“This is everyone’s Palace, right?” Ann spoke up, “Not like Kamoshida’s castle… Who’s keeping these people here…?”

After nobody offered a plausible theory, Joker turned to Morgana. “What’s your take on… Mona?” The cat was scanning the area, visibly unnerved. “Is everything alright?”

“I…” he said, “I can’t shake the feeling like I’ve been here before. This all seems familiar…”

“But it was closed off before,” the model pointed out. A stray thought appeared in her head. “Crow,” she turned to Goro, “how did _you_ get through the locked gates?”

“Through the what?”

“Sections of Mementos were locked off when we started, just like the Depths were,” she explained. “We gained access to them as we took down more and more Palaces.”

“I’ve… never encountered any barriers during my wetwork. I was able to access everything up to that terminus at the very bottom.” He turned to the cat. “Do you have any explanation for that?”

“Um, I don’t-” Morgana looked completely out of his element.

“And come to think of it, how do you _know_ all the things you do?” Goro went on. “Just _what_ are yo-”

“I don’t know, alright?!” he snapped. “And I have no clue why the place just allowed you to _murder everyone you wanted,_ so get off my back!” He marched ahead, keeping his distance away from the rest of the group. 

“That’s a scary thought, isn’t it?” Ann piped up. “That this place, or whoever’s in charge of it, deliberately gave Crow an advantage.”

“I mean, with how much luck he had…” Joker said.

“By what definition of ‘luck’?” Goro asked.

“By the definition of ‘survived two years alone in Mementos’,” he elaborated. “I mean, no offense to you and your combat skills, but… shit happens. Crits happen. I’ve never had to fight _alone_ and the thought’s kinda scary, and you managed to survive and _thrive_.”

“You know, now that you mention it…” the detective focused on memories of his past life, “I feel like at times this realm was going… soft on me. And there was at least one instance of me surviving injuries that should’ve been lethal.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Goro looked at Ann. “Can you name a person that survived a point-blank headshot?”

She cracked a smile. “There’s this guy, forgot his name. He's a decent person, but a bit a-tetchy.”

“I…” He let out something between a groan and a sigh. “I actually never heard _that_ one before. Good one, Panther.”

At that point the group had reached a massive chasm, with the only way forward (other than just jumping in the hole) being a narrow path leading ever deeper. Morgana was waiting for the rest of the group, still appearing uncertain about all of this. Joker carefully approached it and looked down - and that was the straw that… not necessarily broke the camel’s back, but put a noticeable crack in his spine.

Here he was, staring into a bottomless pit in a Palace of all Tokyoites - potentially all Japanese people. All the previous Palaces had an element of, dare he say, whimsiness, silliness to them, but not this one, with its red details on black cuboids and Shadows brainwashed into compliance. Goro’s comments and Morgana’s uncharacteristic lack of confidence weren’t reassuring, and the fact that the Palace was a _prison_ of all things-

“Joker?”

He spun around, startled, and noticed all the other Thieves giving him concerned looks.

“Dude, you alright?” Ryuji asked.

“Yeah, of course.” He adjusted his mask. Sure, it was scary and unknown and everything about it screamed ‘very final dungeon’, but he was prepared. He had experience. He had friends, and one- no, he had friends _period_ watching his back and with all those wonderful, _splendid_ fellows behind him he was able to take on the _world_ and no goddamn Shadow, cognition or any other being spawned by this hellscape would stop them. “Let’s get going.”

“We don’t have time to walk,” Morgana changed into his car form. “Get on board, and _please_ don’t drive me off the cliff.”


	22. Not So Different, Not So Similar

Joker parked the car at the bottom of the chasm. “This would’ve gone faster if you allowed me to drive faster than 3 miles per hour,” he said, getting off with the group.

Morgana shifted back to his cat form. “Did you see any safety railings there? _I didn’t._ ”

“This looks kinda like the entrance, doesn’t it?” Ryuji remarked. “Please tell me we’re not running in circles.”

“The bridge there was shorter,” Futaba pointed out.

“But look, there’s a large cell room ahead, isn’t there?”

“Tokyo has a lot of people, Skull, they might need multiple cell rooms.”

The group marched forward. Despite the differences, it looked remarkably similar to what they’ve already seen. The bridge was made out of pillars with a base shaped like squares with cut corners. It led to an octagonal-shaped room, with two exits and cells on both sides. Shadows looking like humans were standing in them…

“Damn, you look hot in those catsuits.”

The Shujin students amongst the Thieves went stiff. In unison, they turned to the side and found themselves staring at Suguru _motherfucking_ Kamoshida. Or, more accurately, his Shadow, standing in the crowd.

“What the…” the athlete reacted.

The Shadow coach barely forced a smile. “Wanna come over here, ladies?”

In response, Ann, Ryuji and Makoto pulled out their guns and took aim. Futaba glanced at Goro. “Crow, can I borrow your ranged option?”

The detective handed over his ray gun. “If you want to take the shot, I can take the blame.”

“Crow, no!” Joker protested.

“It’s not a problem, I still have that suppressed Glo-”

“Nobody shoots anybody,” the leader stepped between the shooters and the potential target, “nobody takes the blame for more murders,” he turned to the Shadow, “and nobody makes passes at people _half their age_.”

“Jeez, I was just joking,” Kamoshida rolled his eyes.

“Har de har. Here’s a better joke: what’s the difference between a chick that’s into you and one that isn’t?”

“I don’t know.”

“ _And that was the problem._ Everyone, stand down.”

The Thieves lowered the guns - they didn’t _really_ want to shoot him, just get him to shut up. The group started scanning through the crowd, trying to find the other former Palace owners. Madarame had his back turned to the corridor, too ashamed to look at the visitors. Kaneshiro stood close to the cell bars, his head lowered. Shido was sitting on what was presumably a bunk, looking at the Thieves in silence.

“Okumura isn’t here, is he?” Joker asked him.

“Unfortunately.” Shido sighed. “A truly pointless death.”

Yusuke shot him a glare. “As opposed to all the others at your orders?” 

“You don’t understand,” the politician explained, “My goal was to stop him entering politics, and I could have achieved that just by revealing the truth about him to the masses. You of all people _had_ to be aware of what a man he was.”

“Pot, kettle, black,” Ann rolled her eyes.

“That doesn’t make me wrong, and doesn’t change the fact that Kunikazu Okumura caused as much grief and sorrow as I did, if not more.” If Shido didn’t glance at the model at that moment, he might have noticed that one of the other Thieves is staring daggers at him. “Horrendous work conditions, disappearing whistleblowers… Not even his family was safe from his ambitions.”

“Dude, read the room,” Joker growled, worried.

“Didn’t you know?” Shido missed the context. “He had a daughter he wanted to marry with some creep for political clout. _She’s_ probably glad she doesn’t-”

“Shut up, shut up, _shut up!_ ” Haru pulled out her grenade launcher and shoved its barrel between the cell bars, pointed at Shido. “You know _nothing_ about what I wanted!”

The crowds inched away, but the target remained completely unfazed. “Oh, so she’s here, huh?” he commented. “Didn’t your leader tell you to step down?”

“Oh, he’s gonna forgive me,” she spat, “like he forgave your _bastard son._ ”

At that point, Goro realized something. He wouldn’t mind Shido dying blown to bits, but he _would_ have minded Haru feeling guilt about that - and he was certain she would’ve felt guilt after the dust settled - and the conspiracy making Shido a martyr. Telling her to put the weapon down could have worked, or could have pushed her to pull the trigger in defiance. Encouraging her could’ve gotten her to stop and think about what encouragement from _him_ of all people _means,_ or could’ve been taken at face value. So, he went with what seemed like a natural response:

“Shoot me instead.”

Then he realized it doesn’t solve all the outlined problems. At least it _did_ get her to glance daggers at him.

“Um, I-I mean, the ideal scenario is no more dead people, but if you have to kill _someone_ responsible for this, my corpse will stay behind in this place-”

“ _Akechi?!_ ” Shido finally recognized who was behind the red beak mask and immediately lost his composure. “You’re with the Thieves too?!”

“I’m as shocked as you are.”

The Shadow scanned the crowd. “Should I remember more of you or something?”

“You bumped into me in that hotel months ago,” Ryuji pointed out.

“Also, Crow and Oracle share a rare blood type, but anyway…” Joker put his hand on Haru’s shoulder. “Noir, we’ve already gone through this character development rollercoaster. I _know_ you are better than this.”

“What could you possibly know about _this?!_ ” she shouted back at him.

The leader clicked his tongue. “Remember when So- when _Boss_ asked about shooting Crow, and I told him what happened in the interrogation room on Saturday?” Pause, allowing her to process the meaning of his words. “As I said, _we’ve_ been through this scenario.”

And then, silence. Haru felt everyone’s stares on herself, and while she regained enough clarity to not blow up that _piece of shit_ in front of her, she wasn’t ready to lower her weapon yet.

“Hey, you shouldn’t be out-”

“ _Bugger off!_ ” The princess let go of the grenade launcher - the brunette caught it before it hit the ground - and delivered a quick swing with her axe, bisecting the Shadow guard lengthwise.

A pause followed, as she attempted to regain her composure in a dignified manner, while the rest of the group and the Shadows were too scared to draw her ire. After a while, Joker stepped forward. “Here’s a suggestion: the two of us will go ahead and clear the path a bit, and maybe talk in private, and the rest will wait here for us. Is that okay?” 

Nobody protested. “We don’t mind,” Makoto said. “You can keep the item bag, I’ve got an emergency stash on me.”

“Good. We’ll shout if we need help or something.” Joker gently took Haru by her off-hand and led her deeper into the Palace. 

The remaining Thieves stood around awkwardly in silence, before Ryuji finally blurted out: “So, um,” he turned to the Shadows, “how did you end up here?”

“You sent us here,” Shido replied.

“Wait, what?”

A barely noticeable smile appeared on the politician’s face. “What did you think stealing Treasures and taking down Palaces actually _do?_ ”

“Um, remove the source of the distorted desire?” Makoto replied.

“You’re correct, in a way.” Shido gestured at the crowds around him. “This is a place where people come to willingly surrender _all_ their desires. Or, in the case of former Palace rulers, were forced to do so.”

To call that a gut punch would’ve been an understatement. Yusuke stared at Morgana. “What have you led us to?” he hissed.

“Again, you don’t understand,” the politician went on. “We’re _grateful_ that you did this.”

The concern about their action was partially replaced by sheer befuddlement. “But… why?”

“Do you not see the _beauty_ of it?” Shido stood up. “This is true freedom, freedom from making decisions, the release from thinking from yourself.”

“And the ball and chain is just a fashion accessory,” Goro snarked.

Shido looked at the detective. “You will understand this when you’re older, I guess.”

“I will not, trust me.”

“You won’t understand or you won’t get older?” Futaba asked.

“With luck, both.”

* * *

Five _incredibly_ brief skirmishes later, during which Joker limited himself to healing and support, he finally asked the girl: “Feelin’ good enough to talk?”

Haru was panting heavily. “I… think so…”

“Good.” He sat down on the ground and invited her to do the same. “Energy drink?”

She placed herself next to him and took a can from him. “Am I… am I a bad person?”

“No. Next question.”

Somehow, the girl wasn’t reassured. “I… I thought I’m fine. Fine-ish. Fine-esque. Good enough to forgive.” She drank the whole can in one go. “But then Shido opened his mouth, and it’s all back. The _grief,_ the same grief I’ve felt in that amusement park, and the _anger…_ ” The can crumpled a bit in her hand. “You just want people to _suffer_ , feel the satisfaction that hey, maybe you’re hurt, but _so are they_.” She turned to him. “Do you know how _that_ feels?” 

In a visual medium, there would’ve been a black-and-white flashback here. “Unfortunately.” Joker sighed. “I was like that in the interrogation room on Saturday.”

Haru put the can down. “You know, you never talked about what happened there the first time.”

“Not much to talk about, to be fair,” he replied. “It was a stupid plan that hinged on an all-powerful conspiracy _not_ just shooting me in the casino and writing ‘tried to escape’ in the report. The shitheads beat me up and drugged me and I remembered there was a plan to begin with at the last possible minute.”

“Why did you go along with it then?”

“‘Cause the…” he took a moment to find a euphemism, “‘cause the worst case scenario still meant buying you some time to finish this all,” he said. Haru awkwardly put her arm around him. “Crow, and the conspiracy by proxy, underestimated everyone else but me, they would have just assumed you won’t be a problem with… without me in charge. I… ” He gripped the knife at his side. “I willingly went to my death, and the guy that was _there_ and for all intents and purposes _took the damn shot_ had the _brass balls_ to tell me that _I’m fine with sacrificing other fucking people!!_ ”

“Are you los-”

The guard Shadow didn’t finish the sentence on account of a thrown knife embedded in the face region. It dissolved and the weapon fell down on the ground with a satisfying clang. The brunette stood up and walked over to retrieve it.

“We shouldn’t have lashed out like that, yes.” He put away the knife. “But… it’s _lashing out_ , not something we’re doing because we can, because we made a calculated decision. When the dust settles and the clarity returns… we fix that. We help people. We do good.” He returned to Haru and helped her get up. “And in the meantime, we try and keep our rage focused on the bad guys. Does that make sense?” 

“I guess,” she said, unsure.

A beat, and then a hug, ‘cause what did you expect, really? 

“Do you wanna go to therapy together when this is all over?” he asked.

Haru nodded.

“Can we go back to the rest now?”

The girl thought for a moment before replying: “Can we clear the path some more? I need to make sure I’m out of rage.”

“Yeah, sure.” Joker gestured at her to go first. “I got your back.”

* * *

A period of terse silence was broken by Shadow Shido: “I am curious: how did you end up with the Thieves, after all you’ve done for me?”

“Cliff notes:” Goro replied, “I tried to kill them in your Palace, failed, was told you would’ve betrayed me before _I_ could betray _you_ , and they went ‘no, sorry, you’ll live and suffer some more’. So I help them, out of guilt, gratitude and boredom.” 

“You…” the politician was more confused than offended, “…you wanted to betray me?”

“From the word go.”

“Then-then why were you working for me for so long?”

“Because I wanted to reveal it after you become the Prime Minister, because I am a _fucking moron_.”

“That’s…” Makoto spoke up, “that’s a bit of a conversation stopper.”

Goro looked at her. “Am I not?”

“See, you’re doing it again.” She turned to him. “Yes, you’re not of sound mind, and yes, you don’t think things through, but you’ve got enough stability to not just _do_ things of that caliber on a whim. You owe both us and yourself some _proper_ introspection, as opposed to calling yourself names and calling it a day.”

He gave her an unsure glance before turning to the group. “Permission to be an edgelord?”

“Ooh, you’re asking for permission,” Futaba cracked a smile. “You’ve gone a long way over the past few days.”

“W-well, I don’t want to upset people m-more than I already have…”

“Let’s go back to the previous topic,” the president attempted to steer the conversation back on track.

“Okay,” Goro said. “I’ve had… excuses, back when I bothered with excusing myself,” he said. “Almost none of them are worth quoting. The biggest one was that when I reveal Shido’s crimes to the public, I’m gonna surrender and get tried and punished for all this, so it will all be fair.” Pause. “Of course, on top of all the holes in that plan, the idea that the public just _won’t fucking do anything about the reveal_ didn’t cross my mind.”

“And after you stopped making excuses, why did you go on?” Ann asked. 

“Because…” Cue a long sigh. “Because it was _satisfying_ at the time. Surviving and thriving in an environment as hostile as Mementos takes some skill, you must admit. And as for the grief I caused… I didn’t care. Did the world care about me?”

“Ow!” The model mockingly sucked on her finger a bit. “Sorry, I cut myself on that edge.”

“Hey, I warned you.” Pause. “I guess I’ve been doing this out of resentment for… for the society as a whole.” He started pacing around the cells. “I can deal with _earned_ mockery and scorn…”

“Can you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fair, I can do so _now_ , after almost choking to death on humble pie. But I’ve been ostracized from… from my _conception_ , for the _heinous_ crime of being a son of a raped prostitute that later took her own life. From-”

“Hold on a sec,” Makoto asked, and then the Thieves all pulled out their ranged weapons and shot to bits a Shadow guard about to wander in, before he managed to even say a word. “Sorry, go on.”

“From before the moment I started comprehending the world around me, I was treated like a second-class citizen.” The detective glanced at the crowd. “You told me I’m a bastard so many times, and then I went and earned that name. And while I admit my actions were immoral, impractical and disproportionate, and I will do whatever it takes to stop this trainwreck… fuck all of you with a barge pole _._ ”

He scanned the Shadows and his eyes briefly stopped at Shido. And then, he chuckled. It wasn’t a malicious chuckle, it sounded like he had just remembered a good joke about bald people or something, and it made the politician nervous. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You’re a twatbasket,” he said. “I have _zero_ qualms about you getting your just desserts.” 

“O… okay?” Shido was feeling more and more unsure by the second.

“You brought me to this world and shirked responsibility for it, but at the same time… as long as I was doing what you told me to, you couldn’t care less about my background.” He chuckled again. “You treated me better than ev- _almost_ everyone else.”

“I, uh…” the politician adjusted his shades, taken aback, “I wanted to kill you the moment the election results came.”

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.” Goro shrugged. “And it’s not like I can claim moral high grou-”

“We’re back!” Joker reentered the scene, followed by Haru finishing another energy drink. “We cleaned up the whole floor, there’s another spiral ramp downstairs at the end of it.”

“Oh dear,” Morgana whimpered, confident this place will leave him with a crippling fear of heights.

“Before we move on,” she crushed the can in her hands and tossed it away, then turned to Shido. “I am sorry for threatening to blow you up,” she faced the detective, “and I’m sorry for bringing your family situation into this.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” the two said in unison, then shot each other a glare.

“Did we miss anything?” the leader asked.

“Shido saying that the Palace Rulers were sent here by us, us shooting up a Shadow guard, and Crow telling off the society,” the cat recapped.

“Can’t blame him fo-” Cue a double take. “…repeat that first thing for me.”

“Can I skip the recap?” the princess asked. “I want to… talk to Crow in private.”

“Quick question:” Shadow Kamoshida raised his hand, “if everyone’s already aware he’s that detective from the TV, why do you keep calling him by the nickname?”

Haru didn’t stick around for the answer, and grabbed Goro by his sleeve and dragged him away from the group, into the now-empty halls. Then, they stood there in silence for a moment. 

“It’s… hard to take the high road,” she finally said.

“You don’t have to, as far as I am concerned,” he replied.

“But you’re trying to do the right thing-”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you _must_ forgive me,” he firmly but politely interrupted her. “Your grief and mourning will not go away just because I’m desperately grasping for any shot at atonement.”

Another awkward pause. “This would’ve been easier if you weren’t so… _understanding_ of what I’m going through.” She fiddled with her thumbs. “Were you… like this at any point?”

“No,” he said without thinking, “and you will never be as I am now. If only because I’ve never had friends to lean on in moments like this.”

“Really?” If someone told Haru she would’ve felt sorry for the man that killed her father, she would’ve either laughed at them or slapped them. “None at all?”

“Well, there was one guy. Really great, fun to talk to, and he didn’t judge me for my lineage.” He looked elsewhere, ashamed. “I got jealous of him and shot him in the face.”

“...I really hope you’re talking about Joker, because there’s no helping you if that happened multiple times.”

Once again, silence followed, finally broken by Goro: “Do you want to hit me?”

“Huh?”

He opened his arms and closed his eyes. “One blow, no strings attached, no retribution. Just for a bit of well-earned catharsis.”

Haru pondered it for a moment, and then, deciding it might bring _him_ some relief too, kicked him.

“ _ARGH!_ ”

No, not where you are thinking, lower.

“ _Samefuckingankle-_ ” he hissed.

“W-was that too hard?”

“No, no, it doesn’t hurt that much.” Pause. “Um, I mean, I’m not saying that you’re weak, but-”

“What is going on?” Joker poked his head out.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him!” the princess panicked a bit.

“I literally explicitly asked for this,” the detective reassured.

“Let’s just move on,” he ordered. “Looks like you guys are getting too bored.”

The Thieves trickled out of the cell room. As the last one was leaving, Shido said, loudly enough to be heard, “Thank you for taking care of him.”

“Shut it, Shadow,” Ryuji growled at him without bothering to turn around. “Father of the fucking year…”


	23. The Very Definitely Final Dungeon

After an argument, Morgana agreed to double his top speed, which made the trip deeper a bit less of a slog.

The starting area of the lower level looked similar: a small bridge leading towards a larger cell block. Expecting another dramatic reveal, the group marched forward and was welcomed by relatively underwhelming rows of filled single cells, and one _massive_ metal door.

“What could that be?”

A Shadow mook peeked from behind the corner. “I can tell you if you won’t murder me.”

Joker raised an eyebrow. “That’s… convenient.”

“I got a message from the upper floor about a psycho chick with a poleaxe massacring the other guards,” he explained. “I can tell when I’m outclassed.”

“Sorry,” Haru smiled awkwardly. “I have some issues to work through.”

“Okay then,” the leader gestured at him to come out, “exposition away. What’s this?”

The Shadow stepped out and approached the large gate. “This is the quarantine cell. Inside it is the most sinful and dangerous convict we’re keeping here.”

“Can we see them?”

“Nope, no visits allowed,” he replied. “Hell, I’m not sure if I can even open the door.”

“Since we’re asking questions:” Makoto joined in the conversation. “Who rules this place? As in, the Palace as a whole.”

“The people do.”

“The... aesthetics of this place aside,” Ann said, “they don’t appear to _rule_ this place. It looks like they come here to _submit_ to someone or something.” 

The Shadow scratched his head with his nightstick. “Hm. I’unno, to be fair. I’m just patrolling here. Please don’t shoot.”

“Eh, no worries. If you’re letting us go, why would we?” Joker reached into his coat and pulled out a candy bar. “Here’s something for your trouble.”

He tossed it at the Shadow _juuuust_ a little bit too hard and it got stuck in his torso, and he hissed in pain. “See, _this_ is what I wanted to avoid all this time.” He pulled it out and took a bite without bothering to unwrap it.

“Sorry,” the brunette smiled awkwardly. “We’re just gonna move along…” 

The Thieves marched out, and the Shadow finished his snack. He was about to return to patrolling, before he noticed one of them remained where they had been standing. “Oi, you left your cat behind!”

The group collectively spun on their heels and returned to Morgana, who continued to stare at the bolted door. “I…” The memories were trickling back in. “…I was born here.”

Goro raised an eyebrow. “Um, duh? You’re a cat-shaped blob with intrinsic knowledge of how this realm works, what was the alternative?”

“He had a whole arc about that,” Joker explained. “Mostly between the two of us.”

“I...I thought I was a human,” the cat elaborated. “I’ve felt myself drawn to the depths of Mementos, and I assumed that once I’ll get here, I will be able to get my ‘true’ form. But now…” Morgana looked deflated. “I think… I think I saw all those imprisoned people here and jumped to a conclusion that I must be one of them.” He lowered his head. “But I’m not.”

After a pause, the leader said a single word: “...and?” That was a bit insufficient, so he elaborated, “What does that change?”

“You aren’t defined by your origins, Mona-chan,” Haru added. “Even if you’re a being born of this place, that doesn’t mean you’re a mindless monster or anything.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” she smiled sheepishly at an annoyed guard.

“I’ve shaped the Thieves and their actions since before the Thieves were a thing,” Morgana went on, “but what if _I_ was shaped by… by _something_ or _someone_ to lead you here?”

“The same being that granted me unrestricted access to Mementos?” Goro piped in.

“Maybe?” The cat was uncharacteristically unconfident. “What if I’m a mole, a Manchurian agent leading you towards-”

“I’m certain you aren’t,” Joker interrupted him. “As far as I can tell, you’re loyal, if with a very fragile ego - yes, I see you there, Skull - but that’s something we can work with.” He picked the cat up to his eye level and smiled. “The net balance is positive, and even if you’re leading us into more trouble now, it’s not your fault, and we’ll manage.” He turned to the group. “Am I right, people?”

Cue confirmatory murmurs.

The leader dropped Morgana on the ground. “Feeling better?”

The cat flashed a smile. “I think so, yes.”

“Can we get going?”

Morgana nodded, and the forward team marched ahead.

“Um,” Ryuji said, uncharacteristically quiet, “am I the only one concerned about Mona throwing a hissy fit again or something?”

“To our leader’s credit,” Yusuke replied, “erring on the side of trust worked well enough for us.”

* * *

The guarding Shadows watched the Thieves move forward from a safe distance, unwilling to try and stop them. The group at first appreciated the change of pace and not having to waste items, spells and time on common mooks, but over time the lack of resistance became eerie, and everyone started worriedly scanning the surroundings, expecting _something_ to go horribly, horribly wrong.

After going through _yet another_ ‘touch all tiles in _n_ steps or less’ puzzle, a control pillar shifted downwards, revealing a corridor leading towards an intimidating-looking rotunda, made out of black blocks with glowing red windows. Through the gaps in it, you could see the bundles of the vein-cables from above going towards something at its bottom. Something akin to a skeleton of a long-dead beast was wrapped around it.

The group marched across the bridge made out of another skeleton and entered the building. The blocks turned out to be cells, conveniently arranged to allow the Thieves to jump down level by level with little issue. At the bottom of it was a strange, chalice-shaped jet-black contraption. The red pipe-things were all coming out of or flowing into it.

“This has to be the Treasure,” Morgana said, as the forward team landed on the ground. “It radiates a powerful aura.”

“I assume you have a plan for absconding with something as large as this,” Goro said.

“Nope,” Joker admitted. “The last time this happened, the ruler of the Palace conveniently shrinked it to a more reasonable size.”

Makoto dropped down to their level and circled the chalice, as a thought popped up in her head. “This place… does it look like a panopticon to you?”

“A what?” Ryuji asked.

“A rotund building, usually a prison, with all the inhabitants placed on the walls, and a single watchtower in the middle, overlooking them.”

“So that’s supposed to be a guard tower?” Ann asked. “I mean, it makes sense, all the cells seem connected to it.”

“Wait,” the leader asked, “would that mean the… thing in front of us, the Treasure of Mementos, also runs the place?”

“You are remarkably quick on the uptake.”

The Thieves all haphazardly raised their guard and started scanning the surroundings for the source of the booming, commanding voice. Joker and Goro noticed the other being particularly taken aback.

“Did that- did the Treasure talk?” Ryuji blurted out.

“Indeed,” it said. “I am known as the Holy Grail, granter of dreams to all who behold me. This place, the Prison of Regression, represents humanity’s collective desire to _surrender_ their cognition and neglect the world around them. Who _are_ you to deny them what they crave?”

“That voice…” the detective muttered. “It sounds… familiar, for some reason…”

The brunette turned to him. “This thing granted you your powers, didn’t it?”

It was the type of question you ask when you already know the answer. The coin dropped. He barely remembered that event, had pushed it out of his memory for whatever reason, but yes, that seemed to be the case. But how did he… How could he possibly…

Oh.

He didn’t know _why_ the being in front of him put them against each other, and truth be told, he didn’t care. All that mattered was that it was a threat that required an escalation. “Makoto, gun.”

The president looked at him. “Okay, first of all, codenames, second-”

“Don’t bother, Queen,” Joker said, his tone betraying how _out of his depth_ he was at the moment. “Give him his pistol and let him shoot that thing down.”

“What is happening?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied, “but what little I know paints the situation as ‘shoot first and ask questions later’.”

The president pulled out the handgun and the detective yanked it out of her hands and shoved a magazine in the magwell. He then chambered a round, took aim, and fired. It sounded like a large flat object crashing into water, followed by the rattle of an empty casing dropping on the ground. And then, a short pause, as he took aim again. The inmates began to liven up.

“There’s no time for marksmanship, Crow!” Ryuji shouted. “Fire faster!”

“And miss half my shots?” He pulled the trigger again.

“ _Miss?_ This thing’s massive!”

Another shot. “And this is a handgun with subsonic ammo. Those things are less precise than you think.”

He fired a fourth time, and then a scream from one of the inmates raised above the chatter: “What are you doing?!”

The detective kept aim, but removed the finger from the trigger, and looked at Joker expectantly. “Go ahead,” he commanded. 

Fifth.

“Don’t do that!”

The screams of the people became louder. Begging and pleading with him to not hurt the idol in front of the Thieves.

Sixth.

“Stop iiiiiit!”

There was a reason he demanded a firearm. Because of this exact thing happening. Beating Shadows to death with a baseball bat takes too much time, during which they were able to plead, beg, attempt to appeal to whatever remained of his shriveled conscience. 

Seventh.

“They’re attacking the Grail!”

All those events were coming back to him now, and turning the gun on himself seemed more and more appealing by the second.

Eighth.

“You alright?” Joker asked.

“Are you sure…” He took a breath to calm down. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”

“You’re not hurting those people, Rootkit.” Futaba marched forward and put her arm on his shoulder. She always wondered how those things looked in a third-person perspective. “You’re _freeing them._ Keep firing.” 

Ninth.

Goro’s hands started shaking. “Come the fuck on…” he whispered to himself. “You’ve been doing this for years now, what’s the difference now, you piece of shit? You can’t fall apart now…”

Tenth.

The screams were all blending together into an incomprehensible wail. He was convinced most of them were coming from his head at that moment.

Eleventh.

“Stovepipe,” Makoto pointed out.

The detective didn’t register that. He pulled the trigger again and didn’t even realize he didn’t fire. She allowed herself to approach him and quietly point at the spent casing stuck in the ejection port. He snapped out of his trance and racked the slide back to eject it.

Twelfth.

“Crow?” Joker said. “Your thousand-yard stare is concerning.”

“I’ll manage,” he lied. “I can’t fucking fall apart when shooting a bad guy for once… I won’t…”

Thirteenth.

“Goro,” the president spoke up again, “you’re taking this too-”

“Aw, boo hoo, the assassin’s sad, _whatever shall we do!_ ” he snarled. “ _I started this mess and I’m going to finish it!_ ”

Fourteenth. 

“You’re not fighting alone anymore, goddammit!” the leader raised his voice. “You don’t have to burn yourself from the inside out to get what you want!”

Fifteenth.

Goro closed his eyes.

“This is the same egotist stubborn _bullshit_ that made you think your best option is _bum-rushing us in that fucking engine room_!”

Sixteenth. 

The slide didn’t return back to its previous position. The gun was empty. The detective’s arms fell down, completely limp, yet the hands clung to the weapon like his life depended on it. “There,” he exhaled. “I did it.”

“Is that all?” Ryuji spoke up. “Did we even _dent_ this thing?”

“Somewhat,” the Grail responded. “But predictably, not enough to impede me in any significant way.”

“The fight isn’t over yet,” the leader spat.

“It is now. _Will of the People!_ ”

The moving odds and ends around the chalice started spinning rapidly. The crimson veins began to pulsate, and with each pulse, the Grail’s colour shifted incrementally, from black to brown, from brown to yellow, from yellow to golden. The angry and pleading screams of the imprisoned humanity turned to awed murmurs and ecstatic prayers.

“It-” Futaba couldn’t believe her readings, “it has- it has healed itself?!”

“Behold, you foolish agents of the so-called ‘justice’,” the Grail boomed. “This shine was granted to me by the humanity you claim to represent. This is their reality. They _want_ my rule. They _deserve_ it.”

“That’s _bullshit!_ ” Joker screamed at the chalice. “We’re going to take down this Palace, and you can’t stop me, _Igor!_ ”

One of the small spinning things on the Grail lit up with a bright white light, as Morgana turned to the brunette, “Wait, how do you know its na-”

A blinding laser swept across the room. The last thing everyone registered before a fade to white was the others’ brief screams.

* * *

Goro always expected to end up in a personalized hell, which is why he initially didn’t bat an eye about finding himself on the ground in Shibuya. The thing that proved to him that _nope,_ he’s still alive, was Joker hissing at him to hide the pistol.

The group got up from the ground, a bit groggy and in civilian clothes, but otherwise not worse for wear. “What just happened?” Ryuji enquired.

“It looks like the Holy Grail slash-kicked us out of Mementos,” Futaba replied.

Ann glanced nervously at the group. “Does that mean we lost?”

“We’re still alive and ready for round two,” Joker announced, cracking his knuckles. “We’re gonna get back down there and cut the-” A few drops of rain landed on his neck. He glanced up. “Huh. The forecast didn’t say anything about showers.”

Makoto pointed at the pool of water growing in front of her. “Let alone red rain, I assume.”

Something burst out of the puddle, startling the group. A tentacle-like arrangement of bones grew rapidly over the square. The Thieves watched it expand and realized it’s far from the only one. All sorts of decaying remains were reaching as high as the Shibuya skyscrapers, wrapped around the buildings and ensnaring the streets.

“So, when he said ‘this is their reality’…” Haru muttered, terrified.

“…he was literal.” Yusuke finished.

Suddenly, Joker realized something that made the situation even more eerie. “…why aren’t people freaking out about this?”

Indeed, all the cityfolk continued about their business, unbothered by the apocalypse around them. Conversing about the news, planning holidays in the wonderful weather, laughing at that stupid urban legend about no-gooders getting their hearts changed by some group, what was their name again? Something about organ theft, I think.

“There’s no time to worry about that,” the geek announced. “We’ve gotta return to the Depths… before…” She suddenly lost steam and collapsed.

“Futaba!” Ann reached out to help her get up, but lost balance and joined her on the ground. One by one, the group fell down to their knees, until only a single person remained standing.

“Why...” Ryuji hissed, “why aren’t _you_ affected by this, Goro?”

“I don’t know!” he said, realizing that the situation doesn’t put him in a favourable light. Then, he noticed something that made him lose the last traces of his composure. “Wh-wh-what is happening to your hand?!”

The athlete turned his head to see what he was on about, and realized he can barely see an outline of what used to be his palm, with some soot-like particles drifting away from the wind. He tried touching it with his left, but the fingers just went through. “What the shit?!”

The detective spun around, and to his horror all of his acquaintances were disappearing before his very eyes.

“This… cannot be…” Ann muttered, staring at her legs, then staring through them.

“The Mementos and the reality are now one,” the Grail’s voice boomed. “And those who do not exist in the cognition of humanity, cannot exist at all.” The god allowed the meaning of his words to sink in, then delivered one last gut punch: “Congratulations, detective. You have won the game.”

Goro’s brain threw an emergency brake lever. “What...”

“You… treacherous bastard…” Ryuji attempted to get himself off the ground, but his legs gave way, and his body dissolved into nothingness on contact with the pavement.

“Don’t listen to the Grail…” Joker spoke up with great difficulty. “He’s full of shit...”

“We’re dying, he isn’t!” Ann cried in response. “How _delusional_ do you have to be to-” She wasn’t able to finish that sentence.

“How… could you…” Yusuke clutched his chest with his barely-existing hand and dissolved into nothingness.

“I-I don’t know what’s happening, I swear!” the detective said to the barely-remaining group.

“If I still had my arms, I would’ve strangled you…” Haru growled, and then she wasn’t there anymore.

Makoto tried to stay composed, but failed at the last second, seeing her comrades perish in front of her. She tried to let out a panicked shriek, but it was cut short.

Futaba didn’t say anything. She just stared at the detective, tears in her eyes. They dropped on the pavement when she was gone.

With only the brunette and his cat remaining, Goro knelt on the ground next to him and grabbed him by the lapels. “I-I-I didn’t do that! You believe me, right?! You have to believe me!”

Joker just stared blankly at the red sky above him. “What was I even thinking… Justice… Righteousness… Empty words…” He futilely reached up. “I dragged seven people to their doom, I guess I deserve to go out like this…”

And then he disappeared. The detective turned to the cat, his brain on autopilot. Morgana at that point was just a torso and a head dissolving into thin air. Their eyes met, and the cat said what he thought were his last words:

“Get fucked, Akechi.”

And then Goro was alone, in an uncaring crowd. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **In retrospect, I should’ve named this chapter “Cerebus Syndrome”.**
> 
> **I just wanted to say that we’re about four chapters away from the end of this mess. [edit: you were so full of shit, past Barth...] I’m not covering the Royal Palace - at least not in this story. A sequel is not off the table though, and maybe, juuuust maybe, I’ll write something that isn’t just retelling the canon with a less stupid-evil Akechi…**
> 
> **But I’m getting ahead of myself. Thanks for sticking around, everyone, and see you in the next chapter, whenever that goes up.**
> 
> “Welcome, Morgana.”
> 
> “Huh?”
> 
> “First of all, accept my apologies. The situation is… less than ideal.”
> 
> “Where am I? Where are the others?!”
> 
> “Your friends, bar Mr Akechi, were captured and banished to the depths of the Prison of Regression. I have managed to redirect you here, to a small pocket of space outside the narrative.” 
> 
> “Why couldn’t you help them too?!”
> 
> “Unfortunately, my power is greatly restricted at present. I was barely able to save one being, and have decided to focus on you, so that I can let you reenter the scene at the right moment for you to fulfil the purpose you were created for.”
> 
> “Did I not already? The Thieves are all gone. The humanity’s doomed.”
> 
> “This wasn’t your purpose - quite the opposite, in fact.”
> 
> “And how would you know?”
> 
> “I promise to explain everything in due time. For now, observe the unfolding events. While things are dire, I am certain your friends will be able to positively surprise you. Humans do that regularly.”
> 
> “...can I ask you a question while we’re waiting?”
> 
> “I might not answer in a straightforward manner, but go ahead.”
> 
> “Did… did Goro betray us again?”
> 
> “No. Not willingly, at least. It will all become clear soon enough.”


	24. Break the Haughty

For an incredibly brief moment, Joker felt blissful.

For all the downsides of ceasing to exist, there was something to be said about not having to battle the personifications of humanity’s worst desires, counting down days to getting backstabbed by someone you considered a friend, and having a country-wide conspiracy threaten everyone you ever cared about.

Of course, the exact moment when he was fully at peace with the cessation of his existence was the moment when he started existing again.

And the first thing he registered was that _goddamn piano piece._

He opened his eyes. The cell was as he remembered it, with an uncomfortable bunk and a toilet he never actually dared to use for its intended purpose. He glanced down - as expected, he was wearing that stereotypical striped attire. Igor - yes, I know, let’s call him Igor for now for the sake of convenience - was sitting by his desk. He let out a brief chuckle, and it was enough to get the brunette’s blood boiling. He sprung up from the bunk and marched up to the cell door. “I want an explanation.”

Another chuckle. “I do not know what you’re referring to.”

“Yeah, sure, and the Holy Grail sounded like you without the reverb because we’ve run out of voice actor budget!”

“Joker? What’s going on?”

The familiar voice prompted him to scan the neighbouring cells, or at least those he could see from where he was standing. “Guys? Are you here?”

“Most of us, from what I can see,” Makoto replied. “And we’d also want an explanation.”

“Starting with how you know this guy,” Ryuji added.

“Alright…” Joker tried to recall the events that led him to this. Bloody hell, it was all this year, those were the longest eight months of his life. “The first night in Tokyo, I woke up in this cell, with this guy by the desk and those twins as the wardens. By the way,” he pointed at the one with a clipboard, “Justine,” then at the one with the retractable baton, “Caroline,” then at the other cells, “this is my team.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Haru politely nodded.

“The Grail said his name was Igor,” the leader went on, “and told me that I need to ‘rehabilitate’ myself and save the world from ruin. Or something like that. The day after, me and Ryuji blundered into Kamoshida’s Castle, and you know the rest.”

“This was… an experiment. ” The tengu-like man tented his fingers. “A game, so to speak.”

“And you’ve _failed,_ inmate!” Caroline slapped the bars of the leader’s cell with her baton. “All our effort was for naught!”

“As a Trickster, you were supposed to bring change to mankind,” the man went on, “save it from impending ruin. It appears, however, that this task was too daunting for you. The apathy of man has prevailed.”

The twins felt a small tinge. They couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason, but something was wrong.

“And where does Rootkit come into this?” Futaba piped up. “You said that he won this, somehow.” 

Igor didn’t respond. He didn’t even acknowledge that he was spoken to. “And what was Goro’s role in this?” the leader repeated.

“A game requires two players.” 

“I can name at least sixteen that don’t,” the geek muttered.

“And as such, there needed to be a Wild Card to oppose you. One to encourage the distortion of the masses. One _created_ by the negligence of humanity.”

“One unwanted bastard with mental issues,” Ann muttered.

Justine glanced at Caroline, Caroline glanced at Justine. Their master deliberately _impeding_ humanity seemed… for lack of a better word, out-of-character.

“Goro’s on our side,” Joker explained. “We got through to him.”

“Did you?”

“Yes - we - _did!_ ” he shouted, punching a bar in his cell’s door to punctuate it.

Igor let out another chuckle. “Your trust in the detective is inexplicable. Has he not demonstrated the ability to keep his head down until the right moment to strike? Had he not tried to take your life in the name of the corruption of the masses and out of an unearned personal grudge?”

The brunette continued to glare daggers at him. “I believe in his change of heart.”

“You’re the only one in this room that does. Is the idea of someone _not_ accepting your kindness _that_ much of a bitter pill to swallow?”

“Master?” Justine spoke up. “I do believe discussing the detective’s allegiance without interrogating him is pointless.”

“We’ll fetch him so he can explain himself!” Caroline added.

After pondering it for a moment, Igor waved them off. “If you want to. My verdict will not change though.”

* * *

One could consider Sae and Mishima bumping into each other while leaving the Shibuya station a rather unlikely coincidence, but let me offer a counterpoint: it would be remarkably easy to spot the one other person in the crowd that appears to have noticed the armagedon around them.

“Miss Niijima?” he said. 

“Yes,” she replied, “and you’re that friend of Akira that was leering at my Shadow, weren’t you?”

The Phanboy turned a nice shade of red. “Yes, that was me. Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

“Not a clue.” She showed him her phone in her hand. “I’ve been trying to call Makoto and her friends, but nobody’s picking up.”

He pulled out his phone in turn. “Have you tried their chat app?” He tapped the screen a few times. “Two people are on-line, Regent and Crow. Who’s Regent?”

“Me. The Sakura kid messaged me yesterday afternoon and asked me to pick a codename. Who’s Crow?”

“Goro, I think.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Akechi.” As far as the prosecutor cared, that was the least reassuring answer possible. Mishima opened the chat and typed _What’s going on?_ After a moment, a series of responses came back:

_you can see this_

_?_

_all around_

_you can see whats happneging_

_where are you_

_In Shibuya, just left the station,_ the Phanboy typed. _And you?_

After a longer moment, another message arrived: _behind you_

The two spun on their heels, startled. If nobody had pointed out that the man in front of them was their acquaintance and a renowned celebrity detective from the TV, they would’ve missed him in the crowd. All it took was ruffling his hair, putting on a tracksuit and a flat cap, and borrowing Joker’s glasses. Admittedly, the handgun sticking out of the trouser pocket and the thousand-yard stare also didn’t match his public image.

“What’s going on?” Mishima repeated the question.

Goro opened his mouth and nothing came out. Describing what he had just witnessed, especially the part with the Grail telling him he ‘won’, would’ve made him a prime target for the older Niijima’s grief.

Unfortunately for him, _not_ describing it just made the prosecutor more anxious, which produced a similar result. She grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him closer. “What have you done to my sister?!”

Mishima had an uncomfortable realization - namely, that he was the closest thing the trio had to a sane man at the moment. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he stepped between the two, “we don’t know what happened, and I doubt this whole mess is his fault.”

“It is,” Goro said, weakly. 

Sae’s hands moved from his lapels to his throat and squeezed tightly. “And you had the _audacity_ to-”

The Phanboy then did what seemed like a reasonable idea at the time - slapped the prosecutor in the face and raised his voice: “We don’t know _anything!_ Shouldn’t we hear the whole story as opposed to a single line?”

A beat followed, as Mishima did his darndest to not run away in panic, and the last rational part of Sae’s brain finally decided that he had a point. She released Goro, who gasped for air. “Fine. Tell me the whole story. Now.”

“You might as well continue strang-”

“To hell with you and your death wish, _tell me what happened, you two-faced little shit!_ ”

The detective started taking breaths to keep his composure. He pulled out his notepad and a pen and started writing.

“The heck are-”

“Futaba did something similar, remember?” Mishima interrupted. “If he can’t talk about it, let him write.”

Goro ripped off the top sheet and gave it to Sae. The writing was barely legible. _Do you know how Palaces and Treasures work?_ He realized something and promptly followed it up with _You’ve interrogated Akira for hours, of course you do._

“You waited outside to murder him,” she hissed, “you don’t get to claim high ground now.”

 _The heart of humanity as a whole got distorted and we went to Mementos to steal its Treasure,_ the detective went on. _but it was large and sentient and sounded like the thing that gave me my powers and also Akira’s maybe. He didn’t get to explain._

The detective’s hand started shaking, and Sae realized that despite months, nay, _years_ of knowing Akechi as a colleague, she had never seen him in such a state. Even if it was just a mask of sanity he had been putting up, what the H happened to him to make it crack like that?

_We tried attacking it but it healed itself with ‘will of the people’ and then booted us out to Shibuya and then ―――_

The hand slid across the paper, as if he forgot how to actually put words to it. A tear rolled down his cheek, as he moved to a new line.

_And then Mementos and reality merged._

Mishima raised his hand. “That’s where the dead carcasses came from, isn’t it?”

Goro nodded.

“What… happened after that?” the prosecutor asked, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible.

_We wanted to go back to the depths,_

His hand froze. The pen, gripped tightly, cracked a bit. 

_but then they just― disappeared. Dissolved into thin air before my eyes_

“Wh-what?” Sae blurted out after reading the last note. “Why?”

The detective started breathing sharply, on the verge of breaking down. _Apparently the Phantom Thieves don’t exist in the people’s cognition anymore and with Mementos being here that means they―_

The pen stopped moving and he started quietly sobbing. Sae glanced at the notepad he clutched in his right hand and the implicit followup to that sentence collided with her brain at Mach 3. 

Another Niijima threw their goddamn life away.

“Hold on a second…” Mishima turned towards a random person from the crowd that kept moving past them, unbothered. “Excuse me, sir…”

“I’m in a hurry,” he said and promptly moved away.

Undeterred, the Phanboy approached someone else. “Excuse me, ma’am, have you ever heard about the Phantom Thieves of Hearts?”

“Nope, sorry!” the woman replied and marched off.

“It’s about that urban legend, innit?” a third passerby spoke up.

“Wha- they aren’t an urban legend!” Mishima reacted. “They’ve changed the hearts of multiple people this year and even got blamed for two murders they didn’t commit!”

“Uh, sure,” the stranger replied, and then decided to swiftly walk away from the weird kid.

“This makes no sense…” A stray thought appeared in the Phanboy’s head and he turned back to Goro. “Is it possible that the Treasure, like, deliberately changed humanity as a whole? Changed what they believe and don’t?”

The detective replied with a weak shrug. He didn’t care at that point.

Sae realized that a single detail of the story doesn’t add up. “…and why did you tell me it was your fault?”

After a moment, Goro finally spoke up: “The… when they all… disappeared, the Treasure’s voice said that I… quote, ‘won the game’.”

“What game?”

“I don’t know.”

“And if…” Mishima started, “and if the Thieves don’t exist anymore, then why didn’t you disappear with them?”

“Same answer.” He pulled out his pistol, removed the empty magazine and tossed it away. “But I’m going to…” He retrieved a full mag and shoved it into the magwell. “fix that oversight promp-”

Before either the Phanboy or the prosecutor could protest or disarm him, a blue cell door popped into existence and opened with an eerie creak. The detective reflexively shoved the handgun back into his trouser pocket.

Out of the nothingness behind the cell door emerged two kid-sized wardens, dressed in blue to match their means of entrance. The one with the clipboard turned towards Goro. “Mr Akechi? Our master wishes to speak with you.”

Mishima turned to Sae. “You can see that too, right? The twins and stuff?”

The prosecutor nodded.

The detective lifted his head and stared vaguely in Justine’s direction. “Do I look… speak-with-able to you? All my friends are dead, fuck off.”

“Watch your mouth!” Caroline pointed at him with her baton.

“Your friends are alive and safe, imprisoned by our master,” Justine added.

“Makoto’s alive?!” Sae pushed Goro aside. “Take me to her immediately!”

“The invitation is for Mr Akechi only, since the events that transpired are related to his actions.”

“How?!” Mishima burst out. 

“All will be explained soon. Come, detective,” The warden with a clipboard grabbed the detective by the sleeve and pulled him towards the door with more force than you’d expect from someone of her stature. Her colleague followed, and the three disappeared behind the cell door, which then closed, locked itself, and disappeared.

Mishima picked up the notepad that fell out of Goro’s hand, the last and only piece of evidence that he had been among them a moment earlier. “You know, at least we know they’re not dead.”

“At this point,” Sae said, “I don’t know if it’s a relief. I don’t know _anything else_ and Makoto is probably in danger and I need to place my trust in _Akechi_ of all people.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll handle it.” 

“Do you actually believe that?”

Mishima smiled awkwardly. “Well, someone has to. How can it become true otherwise?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I’ve told one guy that this chapter will have the fight with the twins, but this just came out vaguely chapter-sized, at least by my standards, and I deemed this a good place to stop. Next chapter, I promise. 
> 
> ...I’m sorry, were you expecting someone here? :P


	25. Heroic Second Wind

The wardens and the new guest materialized in front of Igor’s desk. “Welcome,” he said, “to _my_ Velve-”

“Guys! You’re alive!” Goro marched around the room, as if to check that all the others behind bars aren’t just cardboard cutouts.

“…have you been crying?” Haru asked.

“Of _course_ I was fucking crying!” he replied, “You’ve disappeared in front of my eyes, convinced I had betrayed you again!” Beat, as he tried to regain composure. “Sorry, I-I-I shouldn’t have screamed at you.”

“Yes,” Igor attempted to steer the conversation back on track, “and I wan-”

“Don’t worry, we’re all on edge,” Ryuji spoke up. He looked at the detective’s puffy eyes and still-moist face. “…we really shouldn’t have assumed the worst about you, huh?”

The detective turned to him. “I-i-it’s fine,” he said, attempting to sound reassuring, “I-I can s-see why you’d jump to that conclusion.”

“It was based on one sentence from the being behind this whole mess,” Makoto countered. 

“Which was-”

“A-and me very pointedly _not_ dissolving into thin air,” the detective interrupted Igor.

“There could’ve been other reasons for that. You’re a celebrity, you’ve got media presence on your own.”

“And you also joined late,” Ann added, “and not without hang-ups between you and others. I mean, I know it’s impolite to bring that up, but that could also be a factor.”

Goro turned to her. “Don’t worry about that, I deserve whatever’s-”

“We talked about this, Rootkit! Repeatedly!”

“We did not _talk,_ you just sic-”

“I am trying-”

The detective turned on a dime towards Igor. “ _Don’t fucking interrupt me, Grail!_ ”

A moment of silence followed, as everyone was startled by the sudden change of volume, and then the tengu-like man said “…why does everyone assume-”

“ _You sound identical!_ ” Joker shouted from his cell.

“Let us move back to the main point,” Justine faced the detective. “Mr Akechi, the inmates here claim you’re aligned with them. Is that true?”

Goro gave the warden a weird stare and opened his mouth.

“No sarcasm!” Makoto shouted. The detective turned to her and she elaborated: “If they can gain something by misinterpreting an obvious joke, _they will._ ”

He nodded and faced Justine again. “Yes. As of…” he counted on his fingers, “six or seven days - boy, what a week - we’re unquestionably on the same side.”

“Do you believe that to be the case,” Igor piped in, “even after they were informed of your role in the current events?”

“Yes!” the brunette butted in again.

Goro raised an eyebrow. “A-and what was my role in that?”

“I’ve already told you, the day you were granted your powers.”

“You… you did?” The detective tried to focus. “M-maybe? I don’t remember. It’s a blur…”

“Persona awakenings aren’t pleasant experiences, to put it mildly,” Yusuke pointed out. “Even with the generous assumption that the Grail isn’t deceiving us, you could simply not register its alleged explanation.”

Igor sighed. “I will reiterate then: you were chosen by me to cause chaos and oppose the Trickster - that is to say, the inmate over there. And you’ve succeeded at that with flying colours.” 

“I… see…” In the mixture of emotions bubbling inside the detective, an unspecified kind of anger began to surface. His Metaverse wetwork was a mistake, yes, but it was _his_ mistake, based on _his_ decisions. The idea that he was just a pawn of some higher power felt, for lack of a better word, insulting. “But… I didn’t succeed. They stopped me. I’ve _helped them_ by getting the kompromats on Shido. I’m willing to sacrifice myself for his cause, that has to count for something.”

Cue _yet another_ irritating chuckle. “Too little, too late, detective. You surely cannot believe you will be able to repair the damages caused by you and your father. The people of Japan, even after presented with unquestionable evidence of his corruption, are too apathetic to dare and change their fate.”

“It really feels like they should’ve reacted to that, though,” Makoto rubbed her chin. “People lost their careers for less, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, there was the case of Toranosuke Yoshida twenty years ago,” Joker piped up. “He was involved in an embezzlement scandal that tanked his political career, but recently it was revealed that his mentor at the time was responsible for it.”

The detective turned to him. “How do you know so much about a scandal that’s literally older than most people in this room?”

“I’m friends with him. Met him in a beef bowl shop and helped him with his rallies a bit.”

Goro’s jaw dropped just a tiny bit. “…did you befriend the entirety of Tokyo over the past nine mon-”

“Enough tomfoolery!” Igor raised his voice just a bit. “The children of man have given me ample justification to end this world and build it anew, but as an act of mercy I will permit them to exist, with their free will surrendered to me.” He shot the brunette a particularly pointed glare. “You, however, are a lost cause. Your rehabilitation has failed, and I sentence you to death.”

“What?” went the Thieves.

“What…” went Justine and Caroline.

“What?!” went Joker.

“Over my dead body,” whispered Goro, then collected himself. “Alright, let’s talk like one villain to another - why? You don’t _need_ him to die.”

“My verdict is final,” Igor responded. “Those are the rules of the game.”

“Your game is rigged!” the detective snapped back. “You’re the Treasure of humanity, to admit that they aren’t as worthless as you claim they are would be to deny your _very reason for existence,_ and so you changed the people’s cognition so they didn’t believe in the Phantom Thieves! You have achieved everything you wanted, killing Akira gets you _nothing!_ ”

Igor stared at him for a moment, a fixed grin on his face, before responding: “I will not entertain those baseless accusations with a response. I am a _god,_ I do not need to explain my motives to an uplifted delinquent with a firearm.” He turned to the twins. “Execute the Trickster.”

If the detective had been thinking clearly at the moment, he would have noticed the obvious trap he was about to blunder into.

“Fuck that.” He yanked his gun out, pointed it at Igor and pulled the trigger repeatedly.

If the detective had been thinking clearly at the moment, he would have realized that a repelling shield had materialized in front of the god before firing his fourth shot.

He coughed up blood.

“He’s armed!” Caroline ripped the gun from his hand, pushing him in the process. He shifted his weight to the hurt leg, causing him to fall down and hit his head against Haru’s cell to add injury to injury. He slid down to the ground, leaving a bloody trail on the bars.

“I am sorry, master!” the warden apologized, crushing the firearm into a pile of scrap with no effort and dissolving the remains into nothingness. “We didn’t expect him to attack you!”

“He _goaded him to shoot!_ ” Joker screamed at the top of his lungs. “And he gave him his powers expecting, _knowing_ he’ll mishandle them! This whole mess is his fault as much as it is Goro’s!”

“I never forced his hand,” the god shrugged. “Everything he had done, he had done of his own free will. Just one more argument to prove me right.”

Haru reached through the bars of her cell to grab the detective by his hand in a futile gesture of reassurance. “Sorry for the mess…” he whispered, staring blankly ahead. “You want me to… pass a message to your dad or something…”

Joker looked at Goro sitting in the pile of his own blood, and felt every rational thought drain from him, until nothing but cold, calculated anger was left. He glanced at Igor. “You know, he has a point. There had to be a reason why you insist on offing me.” He gripped the bars of his cell. “Are you… scared of me, maybe?”

The god glanced back at him, confident. “Why should I be?”

_The cell door is broken open with a single kick._ Wait, what?

“Let me demonstrate,” he snarled. Blue flames enveloped him as he stepped out of his cell, burning off the prison garb and leaving behind his black and red Phantom Thief outfit. A mask appeared on his face. He pointed at his near-dead comrade. “Diara-”

“Makajam.”

A large crack appeared on Joker’s mask. He felt the power draining from him and the healing spell fizzle out. He tried to protest that it was his turn now, but the words didn’t come out.

“That was an old spell,” Igor explained, “blocking you from accessing any of your Personas, or speaking at all. You have no team to support you, no spells you can utilize, and if I see correctly, you’re also lacking a weapon. Surrender and die with dignity.”

The brunette gave him a stare that would’ve straight-up murdered a lesser being. A serrated dagger manifested in his hand.

“If you want to be difficult…” He glanced at the twins. “Wardens, stop this riot immediately.”

Justine and Caroline placed themselves between Joker and Goro. “Inmate…” the clipboarded warden averted his gaze, “we do not want to fight you.”

“Do not force our hand,” the other added. “Please.”

Joker briefly hesitated, then, realizing there’s too much at stake, charged forward.

* * *

Goro opened his eyes.

He was in the interrogation room again, sitting by the table. Steps could be heard from the corridor. Before he could even think about what to do next, the door was opened and someone familiar walked in.

“Case closed.” Dream Joker reached into his school uniform and pulled out a suppressed handgun. “This is how your redemption ends.” He took aim and fired.

A ‘BANG!’ flag popped out, poking the detective in the forehead. “Ow!”

The brunette (the redhead?) smiled. “Sorry, I thought it’d be good to break the tension.” He sat down opposite the detective. “So, welcome to the afterlife. Or maybe to a reassuring hallucination produced by your dying brain.” He shrugged. “Who knows? I don’t.”

Goro said nothing, just stared at the table top with a sour expression.

“Disappointing, innit?”

“Not…” he paused, “not how I wanted to go.” He raised his head to glare at him. “You know, even dying in that bloody engine room would’ve been better. A defiant last stand, with me perishing after a satisfying fight with worthy opponents. Not some fucking… repelled bullets from my own handgun.” Pause. “But… after all I’ve done, I guess I deserve such a disappointing demise.”

Dream Joker sighed. “Jeez, give yourself a break for once…”

“GiVe YoUrSeLf A BrEaK-”

“You can repeat that with a mocking voice all you want,” he interrupted, “that doesn’t make it wrong. A person can be both a villain and a victim, doing evil stuff doesn’t mean you deserve to have evil stuff done to you.”

Goro didn’t respond to that - at least not verbally. The glance he gave the voice in his head, however, very clearly conveyed sheer disbelief with the notion.

Dream Joker rubbed his chin. “You know, I wanted to argue this based on human’s innate right to not feel like shit all the time, but it won’t work on you. So let’s focus on how you’ve _earned_ that right in the past few days.”

Somewhere, a projector clicked, and an image was displayed on a wall to the side of both of them. It depicted Goro going through the papers in Shido’s office. Another click, and it switched to Haru holding Goro at gunpoint and him calmly talking her down. Another click, and an image of him beating up a goon with a cane. Another click, and an image of him aiming his suppressed pistol at the Grail.

“Side note to that last one:” Dream Joker spoke up, “it’s also an example of how your issues can make it hard for you to fix your mistakes, and you should deal with them for that reason alone.” With another click, the projector turned off. “But my main point is…” He tented his fingers. “Good people are good because they _do good things_ and you’ve done a lot of those over the last week.”

“Psh,” Goro scoffed. “What were my other options?”

“Exit stage left.”

Something emerged from the same side wall. The reassuring clicks revealed it to be the Confidant split flap display from their previous meeting. It set itself to _The Fool._

“The real me has an _irrational_ soft spot for you,” the not-real Joker explained, gesturing at the meter showing a ten on a ten-point scale. “If you asked him for a fake passport and a one-way ticket to Amsterdam, he would’ve covered it without a second thought. But you didn’t do that. Running away from your sins didn’t even cross your mind. You turned around and focused your brash suicidal stubbornness on the bad guys.” He looked at the detective and flashed a faint smile. “You aren’t a villain anymore, Goro.”

He averted his gaze in response. “We both know this isn’t my call to make.”

“It is not, and yet it is.”

The display started slowly going through all the people that he interacted with, as Dream Joker went on: “ _Forgiving_ you is a decision left to those you’ve hurt. Some of those people will not give you that, and they have the right to do so. And those that _will_ might still harbour some resentment they must process in their own time.” Another pause. “Honestly, with all the suffering you’ve caused them, the Thieves giving you the time of day is… legitimately impressive.”

The display finally stopped on _The Tower._ The name section displayed _GORO / ??O???? / AKECHI._ The meter’s pointer kept wildly swinging around.

“But that isn’t enough.” He stood up, as the detective in front of him absorbed every word. “That would have been naïveté, _foolishness_ even, if not for _your_ decisions, _your_ risks, _your_ continued insistence to keep going.” He gave Goro the pointer finger. “You lucked out to get the opportunity to change, but how you used and continue to use it makes all the difference in the world.”

The meter’s pointer twitched for the last time, and finally settled on 1.

“You won't get your issues resolved with a single pep talk,” Dream Joker sat back down, “but this is a good first step.”

The detective gave him a confused look. “Um, more like the _last_ one. The only reason we're having this conversation is because I bled out to death in that prison.”

“Ah, yes, sorry. You’re dead and gone.” His smile widened to a grin. “Unless the guy that runs the prison didn't check people other than Akira for contraband, and unless Makoto had rez items in her emergency stash, and unless Akira's fight with the wardens is distracting Yaldabaoth so that the others can help her pass it on to Haru, and unless she overcomes her disgust with all the saliva and blood coming out of your mouth to shove some Revivadrin down your throat.”

“…run that by me aga- _ghk!_ ” 

Goro didn’t finish the sentence on account of choking on something. His vision blurred and then refocused, and then he was back on the floor of the Velvet Room, with Haru’s hand covering his mouth.

“Agidyne!” one of the twins shouted. A beam of fire connected with Joker, who looked _much_ worse for wear than a moment ago, but stood defiant. He charged the attacker and sliced her with his dagger, leaving a rather nasty wound.

“Bufudyne!” the other twin followed up.

“He’s holding back for some reason,” the princess whispered. So were the wardens, but she understandably didn’t notice nor care. “You’re not imprisoned like the others, _do something,_ please.”

His friends were in danger. 

Akira was in danger.

And some _motherfucking bastard with a god complex was overlooking this mess with a shit-eating grin._

**A force that willed forever evil…**

The voice sounded familiar. Not unlike the detective’s, but had a vaguely German accent to it.

**…will now work forever good.**

And then, pain. Debilitating pain, as if something wanted to burst out of each and every cell in his body. It took all of Goro’s willpower to not cry out and draw attention to himself.

**Even after your change of heart, your destructive powers remain useful.**

His eyes turned golden.

**After all, how can you build a better world before tearing down the rotting remains of the status quo?**

Something appeared on his face. Somehow, in spite of all the pain he felt in that moment, whatever it was felt more irritating than anything else.

**Rise, Crow of the Phantom Thieves. Cut the remaining strings and free yourself of your puppet masters.**

He grabbed it and pulled it with all his might. As it started coming off, taking chunks of skin along, he let out a short, anguished cry. 

**I am thou. Thou art I.**

Despite Haru’s hand still covering his mouth, it was loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. ‘Igor’ pointed at him. “Arrow of Light.”

And then Joker did, well, what heroes like him do best - took a dive and tanked the attack meant to finish off his friend.

It hurt like hell.

He tumbled on the ground a bit, grievously wounded but kept alive by two equally powerful forces - the power of bonds he had created over the past few months and the sheer righteous fury directed at the god in front of him. He lifted his head in defiance and, despite everything, whispered “Just… piss off.”

“Diarahan!”

Joker felt relieved, both physically and mentally. Someone marched up to him from behind and outstretched his hand. 

“Come on,” Goro smiled, “don’t tell me you’re gonna just _let him_ treat you like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Just as a heads up - the next chapter will come out when the art I commissioned for it will be ready, and I do not know when that’ll happen. Thank you for your patience, see you (hopefully) soon. :3**
> 
> “Hee hee hee… What did I tell you? Humans regularly outperform whatever expectations you have.”
> 
> “…why does he look like you?”
> 
> “To trick my warden. She wouldn’t have served him willingly if she saw his true form.”
> 
> “Warden? There’s two of them!”
> 
> “Again, it will all be explained soon, I promise. Hopefully she will notice the abnormalities before your friends hurt her too much.”
> 
> “…”
> 
> “Please, Lavenza, snap out of it…”


	26. Internal Reveal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The art I mentioned in a previous A/N](https://www.deviantart.com/funnypopgirl/art/Reformed-but-not-tamed-870786873)

Joker stared at the man in front of himself, unsure if he hadn’t just died and went to hea-, to he-, _somewhere._

Black jackboots. Matching trousers. Unbuttoned dark gray dress uniform jacket with black lapels. White shirt and red tie. One hand in a white glove reaching out to him, the other holding a carved black cane like a bludgeon. Cocky, confident smile. Black-and-red peak hat with an ivy leaf symbol on it, same as on the shoulder insignia.

And, in lieu of a mask, thick-rimmed black glasses with rectangular opaque lenses.

“…so hot,” Joker whispered.

Goro raised an eyebrow. “Really? I think it’s kind of chilly in-”

“Arrow of Light.” 

The attack struck the detective with enough force to make him tumble back a bit, but at that point he was in good enough shape to tank it. He turned to the assailant, “What did I _fucking_ say about interrupting me, Grail?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” ‘Igor’ glanced at the wardens. “The punishment for defying me is death. Execute them both.”

Joker sprung up from the floor and him and Goro stared down Justine and Caroline. “Get ‘em!” Ryuji shouted in encouragement.

The detective adjusted his glasses by the bridge and let out a chuckle. “Very well then, let me demonstrate what other tricks my new Persona-”

“Foolish Whisper.”

The left lens in his glasses cracked. An astute lip-reader would’ve been able to identify the expletives that would’ve come out of his mouth if he still had his voice.

“Anticlimactic,” Makoto remarked.

“You have survived for as long as you did because _I permitted it,_ ” the Grail gloated. “It is futile to-”

Goro reached into his jacket’s inner pocket and produced a firearm - a suppressed dark gray revolver with a red grip. He cocked it and fired at one of the wardens.

It sounded, for lack of a better word, weird. Quiet. Unsatisfying. Like the hammer struck an empty chamber. The only proof that a bullet came out of the barrel was a barely visible puff of smoke and the fact that one of the twins clutched her chest and hissed in pain.

“Justine!” Caroline cried out. Goro pointedly cocked the gun again.

Unable to just tell both sides to stop, Joker stepped between the detective and the wardens with his hands raised. Then, slowly, he reached into his coat and pulled out a Life Stone, then tossed it to the wounded twin, who used it on herself. 

“What the hell are you doing, Joker?” Ann said what was on the mind of every other imprisoned Thief.

The brunette attempted to wordlessly reassure them, and the detective put away the cane and started gesticulating with his free hand. The two’s non-verbal argument was interrupted by ‘Igor’ casting Arrow of Light again, which they nonchalantly dodged by stepping away from one another at the right moment. The flash went between them and fizzled out, and Goro then gave the god the finger with his right hand, keeping the gun in his left pointed at the wardens.

Realizing this won’t work without the element of surprise, Grail turned to the twins. “Why are you just standing there? I believe I ordered their execution. He has only five bullets left, doesn’t he?” Goro grabbed Joker by his hand and started drawing spirals in his palm with the thumb. At the third one, the brunette realized he was actually writing the number six. Six bullets left. He squeezed his hand back and nodded. “We all know it isn’t enough to take both of you down.”

“Yes, but-”

“Get on it, then.”

The twins continued to hesitate. “This isn’t right…” Justine muttered. “We… we aren’t supposed to be doing this…”

“We’re supposed to rehabilitate them,” Caroline added. “We’re wardens, not executioners…”

“You are supposed to follow my orders,” ‘Igor’s’ voice gained a reverb, “and my order is _for both Wild Cards to die!_ ”

Predictably, ‘that’s an order’ wasn’t a convincing argument, and for a noticeable while, Justine and Caroline just stood there, unwilling to pick a side. Goro, unable to shake off the feeling of deja vu, carefully decocked and lowered his revolver, and Joker smiled at the twins, awkwardly yet reassuringly.

“They might listen now, do your thing.”

“Do wha- _I remember now._ ”

Everyone present started scanning the room for the two voices coming from nowhere in particular. The Thieves realized that all this time they were one member short.

“The Velvet Room was taken over by a malicious presence,” the familiar voice went on. “It imprisoned its master and established its rigged game to grant itself justification to enslave the people!”

“Slander!” ‘Igor’ reacted.

“And yet…” Justine turned to Caroline, “do you think our Master would’ve forsaken humanity like this?”

“Of course he wouldn’t,” the voice replied. “And the thing in front you isn’t your master.”

“How dare you!” the Grail stood up in indignation. “Who do you think you are?! _Show yourself!_ ”

“Oh, nobody important,” the voice said, “just a creation of the _actual_ Igor. Made out of humanity’s collective hope just before you imprisoned him, to guide the Trickster on his journey.”

Something materialized between the brunette and the detective.

“Me Mutudi!”

The cracks in both of their masks repaired themselves. They glanced down and saw Morgana standing between them with a defiant smirk on his face. The impostor stared at him.

“Nice parlor trick, you will not repeat it. Foolish Whisper!”

The masks got re-broken, but the smirk remained on the cat’s face. “Three words: Null Mute.”

A beat followed, and then the Grail raised an eyebrow. “And the thi-”

“Makajam.”

A crack appeared across ‘Igor’s’ face, like it was made out of porcelain. Unable to retaliate, he glanced at the wardens expectantly. They then turned to the three Thieves. “We… will not interfere. Do what you believe is appropriate.”

“Got it. Me Mutudi.”

Joker lifted Morgana from the ground. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see you, you catty little scamp.”

“We can play with the cat _after_ dealing with the villain in front of us,” Goro put away the revolver and grabbed his cane. “You can go after humanity, they all had it coming. You can go after _me,_ for many of the same reasons. But you went after _my friends,_ and for that, _you di-_ ”

He was interrupted by Joker grabbing him by the wrist. 

Admittedly, the brunette wasn’t sure where the line was between those he was willing to try and talk down and those that were past that. Maybe he was softer on those he considered friends. That didn’t change the fact that a being that had enslaved humanity and used him and his friends as pawns to justify that was firmly in the ‘past diplomacy’ category. For a very brief moment, he considered stopping him and dealing the killing blow himself, but then he realized that letting Goro do it, the same Goro he had anointed to be his trump card in his rigged game, would’ve been _that_ much sweeter. He smiled. 

“Tarukaja.” The detective felt power coursing through him, and then the brunette let go of his hand. “Get him.”

Goro let out a sinister giggle. “Where was I? Ah, yes - you _die!_ Come forth, Woland!”

A Persona manifested behind and above him. He was humanoid in shape, wearing a gray three piece suit and a beret, cocked in such a way to reveal a barely noticeable devilish horn on his head. If he had arms, he would’ve carried a walking stick with a knob shaped like a poodle’s head under one of them, but there were no arms to speak of, just floating black gloves.

“Bleed for me!” Goro screamed. “ _Eigaon!_ ”

Woland grabbed his stick and pointed it knob-first at the impostor. The Persona’s face normally lacked any features, but at that precise moment a green light flashed where his left eye would’ve been. A burst of dark energy came out and connected with the target. ‘Igor’s’ face ended up badly shattered and falling apart in places.

“You…” he hissed, “you stubborn…” 

“Uplifted delinquent with a firearm?” 

“Ooh, that reminds me,” Joker turned to Goro, with a grin to match his, “I’ve got a skill that allows me to breach enemies’ Gun resistance. Can I borrow that revolver?”

The impostor shot them a venomous glare. “This isn’t over.” He then dissolved into thin air.

A period of terse silence followed, finally broken by Ann: “‘Bleed for me’? Really?”

“I just sent a god running with his tail between his legs,” the detective gave her a confident glance. “I’ll be as cheesy as I damn want.”

“Yeah, whatever, Ak-edgy.”

After a moment to let that sink in, Goro turned to her, “How are you more creative with insults and nicknames than every school and orphanage I ever attended?”

“It’s ‘cause we care,” Futaba grinned.

 _All the cells unlock and open._ Stop doing that.

“Uh, did we win?” Ryuji asked, stepping out.

“That was probably just the first phase,” Joker muttered. “But we’ve got a moment to regroup and prepare for round two.” 

“I know it’s a detail,” Makoto glanced at Goro, “but how did that suppressor work on that revolver? There’s a gap between the cylinder and the barrel, the gases should’ve gone out that way.”

The detective pulled the gun out and started fiddling with the ejector rod. “This looks like a Nagant. These have a gimmick where the cylinder moves forward when you cock it,” he opened the loading gate and pushed out a cartridge, “and it uses special ammo, with the bullet fully seated in the case, and it completes the gas seal when fi-” The realization hit him. “This thing has live ammo in it. It’s an actual firearm.”

“That would explain why it dealt so much damage to Justine,” Morgana remarked, as Goro loaded the cartridge back and hid the handgun. “I mean, what will make a gun look more real to the target than a real bullet fired at them?”

“If I may interrupt,” the warden herself spoke up, “do you happen to know where our master is?”

“Right here.”

Everyone turned to notice another person present - looking remarkably similar to the Grail, except lacking the damage done to him by the detective and with heavy-looking chains around his ankles.

“Master!” Justine and Caroline knelt in unison.

“Welcome to the Velvet Room,” Igor (?) said. His voice was different from the impostor’s - higher pitched and more scratchy. “I apologize for the inconvenien-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Goro pointed at him with his cane. “How should we know that you’re the real deal and not just the Grail with the voice changed?”

“That is a good question, Mr Akechi.” Unfazed, he turned to Joker. “Mr… how should I address you?”

“Akira,” the brunette responded. “Or Ren.”

“‘Akira or Ren’ is a mouthful. Can I call you Akiren, for short?” He nodded. “Very well, Mr Akiren, did you notice that the impostor has never fused a Persona on his own, and left that to the warden?”

“Uh huh.”

Yusuke raised an eyebrow. “Fused a Per-”

“I’ll explain between chapters, I promise.”

“So, hypothetically,” Igor went on, “if I were to perform a fusion, would it be enough to prove my identity to you, and the group by proxy?”

“I think so.”

“Very well then.”

Two cards floated up in the air behind him. 

“If you'll allow me…”

The cards connected and a flash of light blinded everyone present. Once it faded, there was one person less in the room. If we’re being precise, the twin wardens were replaced by a single girl, with long flowing hair and a thick tome under her arm.

Igor’s smile widened just a tiny bit. “Welcome, Lavenza.”

“Welcome, master,” she smiled. “It’s been far too long.”

“If everyone considers this enough proof…” Nobody protested, and Igor shuffled over to his desk. “Allow me to provide a unified summary for everything up to this point. Tie up any loose ends.” He sat down. “My name is Igor, I’m the master of the Velvet Room. I guide and support my guests.”

“Guests?”

“People that, in some form, have to go on a journey and overcome whatever trials appear on their way. Coincidentally, the last few journeys involved Wild Cards assembling a team and battling Shadows. I helped them manage and grow their Personas.” He glanced at Joker. “There was a chance of us meeting in different circumstances, Mr Akiren. Alas, a few years back… evil took over. Subjugated me and split my assistant in two, to ensure she remained docile, and established the ‘game’ he had described to you.”

“I’m sorry,” Lavenza lowered her head in shame, “I wasn’t strong enough-”

“It isn’t your fault,” Igor interrupted her. “If there’s someone to blame, it’s Yaldabaoth, for orchestrating this farce.”

“Who?” Ryuji asked.

“That’s the real name of the Grail,” Goro responded. “Don’t ask me how I know that, I am unsure myself.”

“In a last ditch attempt to throw a wrench in his plans,” the host went on, “I have gathered humanity’s collective hope, given it form, and sent him to guide the Trickster. But Morgana had already told you _that_ part. What he didn’t tell you is that I managed to get a hold of him as you had ceased to exist, so that I could grant him powers to counter Yaldabaoth’s spells and release him to aid you at the right moment.”

“If I can ask,” Morgana said, “why am I a _cat_ of all things?”

“This form allowed you to operate beneath notice, and a talking cat is much more convincing when talking about supernatural matters than a humanoid would be. Also, cats are awesome.”

“We sure are,” he grinned.

“And that’s why you were cringing when we called you one over the past nine months,” Ryuji muttered to himself.

“Any further questions?” Igor asked. “I reserve the right to be vague with my answers.”

Ann raised her hand. “That Y guy is the Treasure of Mementos, isn’t he? Why is he, y’know, alive? Sentient?”

“We’re talking about the representation of a distorted desire of millions of people, Ms Takamaki. All of them coveting the same thing - order at all costs - unable or unwilling to shake off the stagnation. It grants him tremendous amounts of power.” He rested his palms on his desk and tented his fingers. “He _does_ still operate on normal rules for Palace Treasures though, which means destroying him will collapse Mementos and return the world to how it was. I can offer you some support with that, to give man a chance at reform.” He glanced at his assistant. “Lavenza, could you please get in touch with Margaret and arrange for a few Silence-related skill cards? Both for casting and for nullifying it.”

“Right on, master.” A detailed blue door materialized out of thin air and opened. Lavenza marched through it and it closed itself, but remained present in the room.

“One thing bugs me,” Joker spoke up, “if Yaldy wanted me to fail, why did he play the ‘mentor’ part for as long as he did?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know. Maybe he wanted to supervise you, maybe he considered your opponent too unpredictable and uncontrollable - no offense, Mr Akechi…”

“None taken.”

“Or,” he glanced at the readers, “if you can forgive a blatant fourth wall break, maybe this was just to trick the players and work around my voice actor’s passing.” He then looked back at Goro, “But I feel there are more important things to discuss right now. Can we have a word, Mr Akechi?”

The detective lowered his head. “I accept my responsi-”

“It is not my role to judge,” he firmly yet politely interrupted him. “I just want to have a conversation about your powers, since they seem unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

“You’ve said your past few guests were Wild Cards,” he pointed out. 

“And so is our leader,” Yusuke added.

“If we define a Wild Card as someone with access to multiple Personas, then yes, both of them fit that definition. But there appear to be… differences.” He glanced at Goro. “Mr Akechi, please switch to Robin Hood.”

“O-okay, I can- _whoa!_ ” He expected it to be difficult and painful, like switching between Robin and Loki, but the process was instantaneous. To an outsider, it looked like a ring of blue fire swept over his costume, replacing the black-and-grey dress uniform with the white-and-gold toy soldier one. Only the glasses and the peak hat remained, and the latter’s turned white with a gold ivy leaf on it.

“Wait, the mask changed, I think.” He removed the ‘mask’ and realized: “Wait, my mask is now _glasses?_ ”

“You’d be surprised how those things change the shape of your face,” the brunette commented, and the geek nodded in agreement.

“A complete… well, _near-complete_ costume change,” Igor pointed out.

“Hold on a second,” the detective raised his hand, “my abilities have changed. Now it’s… Bless skills, Samarecarm and Megidolaon.”

“So what, Woland’s now the Curse skill specialist?” Makoto guessed.

“Yes. He also has Riot Gun and Diaharan.”

The president made a mental note about that. “And resistances? Each resists their own element while being weak to the opposite?”

Goro switched to Woland to double-check, then back to Robin Hood. “Weird… You guessed right, but also, both of them are strong against Gun attacks now, apparently.”

“Acquired immunity.” Haru snickered at her own joke.

He realized there’s something in the uniform’s inner pocket. He reached in and pulled out the suppressed Nagant, now light gray and with ivory grips. “And I can access this thing even with Robin Hood out, apparently.” He wanted to check if that version still has six bullets left, but realized Igor was intently staring at him. “Oh, sorry, did you want to say something?”

“Do not worry, it is understandable to want to explore new abilities,” he reassured him. After a pause, he went on, “Do not take this as an insult, but… you do not have the potential Mr Akiren has.”

“Rude,” the princess protested.

“Serves me right for being imprecise. What I meant is, you should have a single Persona at most. You appeared shocked that the switch worked without problems, did you have difficulties changing Personas in the past?”

“Y-yes. And they also had different masks.”

Igor rubbed his chin. “Wild Cards are a rarity among rarities nowadays. This is pure speculation on my part, but considering Yaldabaoth needed a… certain type of person for his rigged game, I wouldn’t put it past him to grant you a facsimile of Wild Card powers for a paper-thin veneer of abiding by his own rules.”

The detective let out something between a sigh and a groan. “So, I’m just a knock-off,” he said, taking off his glasses to inspect them. “A bad ersatz of the real deal.”

“It’s a starting point,” Yusuke said. “Imitating others’ art styles is the first step to developing your own.”

“And with all that awakening business that just happened,” Ryuji added, “your powers are now your own thing, distinct from what we all have.”

“None of us have a cool antique revolver with live rounds, for starters,” Makoto said, just a bit jealous.

The door opened, and disappeared after Lavenza had reentered the scene with a few cards in her free hand. “On a short notice, I could only get two Makajams and three Mutudis.”

“Good enough for us,” Joker took the cards from her. “Makoto, think about how we could split that between the team.”

“We probably don’t have to overthink that,” she pointed out. “The Grail seemed reluctant to reuse attacks when they don’t bring the desired outcome.” She turned to Goro. “Do you have some free spell slots?” He nodded and she looked back at the brunette. “So, a pair for him, a pair for you, and I’ll take the last dispel.”

The assistant stood by the side of the desk. “So, that’s that, then. I would offer words of encouragement, but you don’t really need any at this point, do you?”

“No, not really,” Goro put away his revolver. “The word of the day is ‘deicide’.”

A stray thought appeared in the brunette’s head. “One last question, if I may.”

“Of course.”

“You…” he minced his words for a moment, “you mentioned that Y needed,” cue air quotes, “‘a certain type of person’ for this mess.” The detective, realizing that the conversation is about him, turned towards the two. “How much… influence did he have on Goro?”

The detective’s expression turned sour. “What are you implying?”

“I mean…” There was no good way of putting that. “If he was willing to muck with you to force two Personas on you, he would be willing to muck with your moral compa-”

“ _Don’t_ go there,” Goro interrupted him. “I was _not_ a good person before this whole fuckfest.”

“As in?”

“Petty crimes. Pickpocketing. A fight or two or ten in the orphanage.”

“That’s still a long way from a string of politica-”

The detective put a finger on the brunette’s mouth. “I said _don’t go there,_ ” he growled. “If believing I was just a poor brainwashed victim of a big bad evil god makes you feel better about your decision to spare me, then believe that, but _keep me out of your delusions._ ” He turned to Igor. “How do I leave this place?”

“With the stairway that just materialized behind you.”

“Good. It’s been a pleasure to meet you, sir, but we’ve got a god to go Nietzsche on, so I bid you farewell.” He marched out of the room and up the staircase. 

Joker glanced at Igor, still expecting the answer to his question now that Goro was out of earshot. “I don’t know the truth,” he said. “As I said, this is something I’ve never encountered before. Only those who witnessed that first-hand could tell you with certainty, and both of them are biased towards a certain answer for their own reasons.”

“Are you guys going?!” Goro shouted, standing by the exit.

“Don’t let me detain you,” Igor gestured. “Join your friend and finish your journey.”

“Okay,” Joker turned to the team. “Let’s move out.”

“Does anyone have a tissue?” Haru asked. “I’ve got my friend’s blood and saliva on my hand.”

“No sarcastic quotes?”

“I mean, with all that happened it _is_ a sort of friendship at this point...”

The voices got quieter as the group joined Goro at the top of the staircase and walked out of the Velvet Room. Igor let out a relieved sigh and the chains binding him fell off his ankles and disappeared.

“Why didn’t you remove those earlier, master?” Lavenza asked.

“If I regained full control over the Velvet Room, our guests’ Metaverse outfits would have reverted to normal, since they aren’t a threat to me,” he explained. “That would’ve been distressing to them and prevented Mr Akechi from exploring his new powers.”

“I see.” Pause. “Do you believe they can take on the impostor if he knows they’re coming for him?”

The host’s grin widened just a bit. “Most certainly. I don’t know if you had noticed, but Mr Akiren has one more trick up his sleeve…”


	27. Easily Forgiven

“…so,” Mishima spoke up, “are we just going to stand around and wait for something to happen?”

“You’ve got any better plans?” Sae replied, ever so slightly dead inside.

“No, not really. And you?”

“All my plans are cance-”

She was interrupted by a massive barred metal door popping into existence in front of them. The bars lifted themselves and the door creaked open and out came Goro, in a white-and-gold toy soldier uniform, peak cap and glasses. He noticed the two waiting there, glanced around and then went “ _‘Ello, random citizens,_ ” in a voice an octave lower than usual.

“Hello, random vigilante,” Mishima winked.

“Where’s the rest?” Sae asked.

“ _Roight be’ind-_ ”

“Drop this stupid accent.”

“Right behind me.” He turned around and stuck his head in the door. “Are you guys going?!”

After a moment, Sae heard footsteps of multiple people and an ongoing conversation: “…it _is_ a sort of friendship at some point.”

“So, we can, like, not mind him on a personal level and you won’t mind?” Ryuji asked.

“At this point,” Makoto continued, “it’s hard to blame _him_ specifically for all that had ha-” She reached the door and walked out and stood face to face with her sister. “Okay, I know that bodysuit looks-”

Cue a hug, returned as soon as the president processed what just happened.

“Told ya they’ll handle it,” Mishima grinned. 

The Thieves were all back in Shibuya and the door locked itself behind them. Joker turned around and realized something. “…isn’t that the quarantine cell thingie?”

“A what?” the Phanboy asked.

“Deep in Mementos,” he explained, “we found this exact door. Apparently it was holding the most dangerous inmate they haaaa-” The realization struck. “I was that inmate, wasn’t I?”

“Yeah, I kinda wondered why you were wearing that prison garb,” Ann added.

“…I am even more confused now.”

“Those are just details,” Joker waved him off. “The main thing right now is: this whole mess is caused by a god born out of the masses’ desire for order at all cost. The Thieves messed up his plans and he decided to drop the pretenses, enslave humanity, and take over the world. Or maybe just Japan, we’re not sure.”

“What we _are_ sure of though, is that killing him will free the people and reverse this mess,” Haru smiled, “so, to quote Crow, the word of the day is ‘deicide’.” 

The prosecutor’s hug tightened, and Mishima went: “Speaking of, I talked to Crow earlier today and he insisted it’s all his fault.”

“Yeah, that’s ten pounds of crap in a five pound bag,” Ryuji spoke up. “He gave him the powers to wreck shit and then said him wrecking shit is proof that humanity’s past rehabilitation.”

“Merely an excuse for what he wanted to do from the beginning,” Goro added.

An awkward pause followed, finally broken by the Phanboy: “So, you’re gonna try and kill a god, huh?” Another pause. “That’s… you know, I won’t tell you how to do your thing, but shouldn’t you be a bit more… bothered? Scared, maybe?”

“Eh,” Joker shrugged, “I mean, in comparison to everything that happened this year, _this_ is straightforward.”

“Step one, locate the Treasure, step two, get to the Treasure, step three, a big fight inevitably happens,” Ann added. “Like with most Palaces.”

Morgana focused, trying to pinpoint the current localization of the Grail, then noticed something in the distance and stopped trying. “You guys see this thing ahead?”

Everyone turned in the direction the cat pointed. A massive tower, as big as other Shibuya buildings, was visible in the distance. It appeared to be made out of the same black-and-glowing-red blocks as the Grail’s panopticon from earlier.

“Gee, I wonder where Yaldy could be,” the cat muttered.

“Hm…” Futaba rubbed her chin. “You know, I was able to nudge some things around in Mementos with my Persona…” A flying saucer materialized around her and floated above the ground. Rapid beeps and boops of a tapped interface could be heard from the inside and then one of the skeletons wrapped around a skyscraper straightened itself out and gently laid itself at the Thieves’ feet, like a ramp.

The geek dismissed her Persona. “And that’s how you get the shortest path in linear time.”

Joker smiled at her. “I don’t get what you just said, but excellent job. Phantom Thieves, moving out…” He glanced at the Niijima sisters, still embraced. “…whenever you’re ready.”

Sae finally released Makoto. “You have to deal with that, don’t you?”

“I do. On my behalf, yours, and the people’s.”

After one last brief hug, the prosecutor released the president and the Thieves made their goodbyes and went on their way.

“Kick his butt, you guys!” Mishima cheered them on. 

“Please come back,” Sae said to herself.

The Phanboy, the prosecutor, and two random pedestrians - a white American and a dark-skinned Brit - watched the group as they marched ahead. An angelic guardian materialized in front of them, but one of them produced a revolver, took him down with a single shot, and the group proceeded forward.

“Who are those guys anyway?” the Brit asked.

“The Phantom Thieves of Hearts,” the Phanboy explained. “They’re actual literal heroes, about to take down a malevolent god.”

“Never heard of ‘em.” the American spoke up. “What’s their deal?”

“Do you want the short version or the long one?”

“Hit us with the long one.”

Mishima gladly obliged. As he was telling the story, a crowd began to gather around him. Some people started recording him. Some started recapping things to friends elsewhere. A few people remembered that a friend of a friend had inexplicably changed their behaviour after a Phansite post. The word about the Phantom Thieves of Hearts began spreading among the masses again.

A couple people claimed that one of the Thieves, the one in all white and a peak hat, kinda looked like that celebrity detective that helped to get their leader arrested a month before.

Those rumours were naturally dismissed as ridiculous.

* * *

Futaba raised her hand. “Can I have Crow’s lightsaber? You know, now that he has a cane in his melee slot.”

“Yeah, sure.” Goro handed it over and she waved it around for a bit, making _vzoom_ noises with her mouth.

“So, no on-topic questions?” Joker asked. “Everyone’s clear?”

“I believe so, yes.”

The group continued moving forward, as the brunette looked at the detective. “Can I ask a personal question?”

“Hit it.”

“You admitted you couldn’t care less about humanity,” he pointed out. “Why are you going to the final boss fight with us?”

“It’s… complicated.” He gestured at the group to stop, and turned to them. “Can I- can I be edgy again?”

“If you must.”

He inhaled and gathered his thoughts. “My Metaverse wetwork was…” He paused. There was no polite way of putting it, so he might as well rip that band-aid off. “It was _satisfying._ I was a bottom-feeding second-class citizen all my life, being finally _in control_ of something was exhilarating. I finally had _agency,_ not dragged down by the,” cue air quotes, “‘sins’ of my late mother.” He sighed. “And then it turned out that I was just a pawn,” he glanced at Joker, “playing the antagonist to your protagonist, and given a head start and training wheels to boot.” He gestured at the temple in the distance. “I need to take Yaldabaoth down for _myself_ , to prove that I can, that I’m my own person now.”

“And _that’s_ so edgy?” Ryuji remarked. “I mean, we can all relate to this _._ We also danced to Yaldy’s tune.”

“The difference being, we were given the heroic parts,” Yusuke added.

The detective took a few steps towards the edge of the bony walkway and glanced down, at all the people below, still carrying on with their lives. “Am I… contradicting myself again?” he asked nobody in particular.

“Why would you?” the brunette asked.

“I went on a monologue about being my own man, but at the same time…” he began stammering “uh, b-b-but at-at the same t-time…”

Futaba put away the lightsaber. “You like us?”

“ _Yes!_ ” he burst out. “I’m… fond of you but I’m scared that-that saying this out loud will make you d-disagree because I put you all through hell and-and-”

“Calm down,” Haru commanded. “Deep breaths.”

After a few inhales and exhales, Joker stepped forward and put his hand on the detective’s shoulder. “There’s no contradiction here. You’re working with us as an equal, because you _want to,_ not because we’re forcing you to. Honestly, I’d rather you skip that fight, you look _drained_ after the awakening.”

“Out of the question,” Goro growled.

The brunette pulled out a can from his coat. “At least have an energy drink then.”

“And it’s like Queen had said,” Ryuji added, “between you doing everything you can to fix your mess and,” he gestured vaguely at everything, “the situation being a _bit_ more high-stakes than we assumed, it’s kinda hard to hold a grudge against you at this point.” He turned to the rest of the team. “Am I right?”

The rest of the Thieves - Haru and Futaba included - nodded and murmured in confirmation.

“I…” the detective opened the energy drink and drank a large gulp, “I still think you’re too forgiving towards me.”

“It goes both ways, you know,” the princess said. “I mean, we’ve almost executed you on a whim - and _please_ don’t give me the ‘not the same thing’ speech.” 

Goro cracked a faint smile. “Only because you said ‘please’.”

“You’ve done… awful things to a lot of people,” Haru went on, “and we’ve done an awful thing or two when reacting to that. But if we all understand our errors and want to make amends and be better people… this friendship might not end up a trainwreck.” She smiled back at him. “I _do_ reserve the right to kick you in the shins if you’re a jerk though.”

“I am quaking in my boots.”

“No, no, no,” Futaba spoke up, “if you wanna discourage him you’ve gotta use a different method. Lemme demonstrate:” She outstretched her arms with a grin on her face. “Come gimme a hug, Crow!”

Startled, Goro took a few steps away from her, tripped on some uneven ground, and tumbled backwards, spilling the remaining drink and crossing an invisible line before Morgana or Futaba could warn him. Another angelic miniboss materialized in front of the Thieves.

“Return from whence you came,” she commanded. “Proceeding further shall only serve to shorten your lives.”

Without bothering to get up from the ground, the detective pulled out his Nagant and took aim, only for Makoto to step forward and gesture for him to hold fire. “Hold on a second.” She looked at the guardian. “Could you please move out of the way?”

“It is not an option.”

“Okay then, I tried.” The president turned to Goro with a grin. “Can _I_ shoot her? I really want to fire a real gun.”

“Yeah, sure.” He handed over the revolver. “Just cock it manually, the trigger’s absurdly heavy.”

“Ah… Greet me with weapons in hand?… Me seemeth-” The angel didn’t finish the sentence, as Makoto pulled the trigger and killed her with a single shot.

Morgana turned to Joker. “Are you sure using up the few real bullets we have is a good idea?”

“The Grail will probably be resistant to them, like in the Velvet Room,” he pointed out. “And if they work on the minibosses, that means we can save up spells and other resources for the big bad.” He reached out to help Goro to his feet. “Does anyone want to say something before we move on?”

“If I may,” the president turned to the detective, “Crow, I do believe that I am speaking for all the Thieves when I say,” she handed his gun back to him, “we like you too.”

Goro put the weapon away. “It is an honor to fight alongside you.” He then faced the leader. “Let us go.”


End file.
